The Railway Series: Salvation Collection
by TheMidlandEngine
Summary: Eight years have gone since we’ve seen the engines. Some have change, others haven’t. Some stories will continue to be told, other would be lost. Not anymore, because these stories have been salvaged from the bitter core of the island to you to read. This, is the Salvation Collection. WARNING: CONTAINS BAD LANGUAGE AND POSSIBLE MATURE THEMES.
1. Prologue

Now you might be thinking. Why the hell is this here and not that story that promised for you that would span the past few years? Well, there's been a slight mix-up. Information errors and all sorts and the reporters, authors and publishers were all over the place last month. But I shouldn't go on behind the scenes.

You might be wondering, who's telling the story this time? Well let me tell you something. It ain't Edward, it ain't James and it ain't Duck. Not even an engine you would expect. Trust me. You won't know for quite a while since I don't come into the story until way before.

But shall we continue on what was left off? Well then. Relax yours eyes, rest in your bed, and enjoy. Cause there's a lot to come off now.


	2. Ep39: Spamcan

**_1965_**

"You're wrong."

The diesel glanced over at the class 46 who had just spoken with a look that made the class 46 think otherwise.

"It's true though," it replied, "that's why we're here to replace them."

"Steam engines are good."

"Really?" the diesel cackled in laughter, "explain the two world wars before our time? Steam engines were replaced by diesels in Germany and France almost instantly the war. The French knew they had adapted to survive with their failure of protecting their own country, and the German engines were disgraced forever."

"The steam engines here have been working for more than two decades longer! That must mean something!"

"Oh D199," scoffed the Class 40, "don't you get it? The steam engines have been on these rails for too long, they've been manipulating society with making the public and government keep them on. They've been polluting the air and the people which created them, they've been slacking on their jobs making the other countries look superior, even Germany! We were built to replace them, and make this a better world! We need to do our duty and make sure we destroy them once and for all and once that's done, we'll be seen as heroes who defeat those fire breathing monsters!"

"There still could be good steam en-"

"Never will be! See for yourself!"

D199 stared at the diesel engine, the diesel was three years older, built in 1960 and he was built in 1963. The Class 40 glared back, staring at him with dark eyes mixing with D199's sun burning ones. The bright, cold moon had just emerged from the old, dirty houses that looked like they had showered in coal and the goods yard in Blackpool had the sounds of steam and diesel engines moving around the yard. The Class 40 clicked his tongue.

"You do this... mate," he continued, "you take your little goods train to Barrow-In-Furness. Then look for steam engines with colours no other steam engine has, like they don't belong on this land."

D199 looked up to the class 40. "Alright..." he said, with a whir of his engine. He started up and took off into the yellow beaming lampposts, to look for his train.

He collected his train, it wasn't long, but wasn't light either. He travelled along the mainline, he only saw two or three trains. Two were diesels, hooting a 'hello' to the class 46 as they rushed past with their evening passenger train. The other was a steam engine, the class unrecognisable with it's paint and dirt matching the night sky. It was pulling a long, dirty coal train and was going at a very slow pace.

D199 tooted to it, but the steam engine didn't reply, only carried on towards it's far away destination.

The class 46 sighed and continued on his journey without seeing another passerby. He arrived at the middle of the night. He glanced around, he had never been here before. He was reallocated two weeks ago to Blackpool and had only gone down south, this is his first time going up north. He came to a sliding stop on what looked like arrival and departure tracks at the corner of the yards of Barrow and next to the mainline. The sound of his engine getting cut off made a vibrating sound and now there was only the sound of the wind going into his grills.

"Oi!"

The diesel startled, banging the trucks lightly.

"Oh oh oh!" screamed the trucks.

"Shut it back there!" said the same voice that frightened the class 46.

D199 then saw a small, saddle tank engine pull up next to him. Seemingly coming out from the yards.

"You're in the departure track mate," he hissed, "that's for trains that are suppose ta leave. Not for trains that arrive."

"...Alright," said D199, "sorry."

"Yeah," said the saddle tank, "make sure you don't do it again."

"I'll try," replied the class 46, trying hard not to rude, but his response gave the saddle tank engine a suspicious look within his eyes.

"You can go," he informed, "leave the trucks here, I'll deal with them."

"Alright," the diesel obliged, "thank you."

The saddle tank only mumbled something under his breath.

He got to the depot, and the thoughts of the Class 40's words came back to him. The unresponsive steam engine whilst he travelled on his journey and the tank engine that was quite rude to him just a few minutes ago. He wanted to think the steam engines were nice l, but how could he? Two years steam engines have been only given him anxiety and tension between them. But he wished that there were good steam engines.

The slamming of a lid made D199 jump out of his thoughts, his driver walked up to him. "Okay 199," he said, "I'm going to the office and take a break there, I've left the control lever on so you'll be able to move around. Make sure you are here in an hour if you move off."

"Okay," replied D199, and his driver left.

The moon held itself high above in the sky. Dark clouds covered bright stars. D199 stayed there for fifteen minutes, until he got bored, he rolled off towards the mainline. It would be busy there, he thought, and he came to a stop.

He then heard a high tone whistle, a whistle that he had never heard before. It sounded like it didn't belong to these rails and as he came to a stop, a building hiding him from within a corner, he saw a diesel on the departure and arrival tracks and a steam engine arriving the opposite way to when he came in.

"Probably from the North," he mumbled to himself. But then he noticed something that was distinguishing from the engine as it came under some lampposts.

It was red.

It's shape was nothing the peak diesel had seen before and he could all but watch in awe as the engine came in proud and stern. The diesel on the other track to the obscure, red engine had the noticeable BR green livery. It had the shape of a cuboid, and looked like a BR class 53. It stood there, watching the red engine coming to a stop with steam wheeshing out in all directions of it's pistons.

"You're late," said the class 53 after a tense, silent moment between the pair. D199 took in the only visible face, which was the red engine's. He looked annoyed, and one of his eyebrows were raised high. He was dirty too, looking like he hadn't a clean for a week and a scar covered part of his cheek. D199 began to eavesdrop on their conversation, the class 40 had said that there were steam engines in different colours, there was one right there. He stayed with the shadows.

"I'm right on time you fool," said the red engine. His accent sounded like he came from Yorkshire, but it seemed he was losing it. The class 53, just continued to just stare at the red engine.

"If you're not early. You're late."

The red engine snorted, as his crew uncoupled him from the train. "Oh please," he said, "don't give me that. You sound barbaric-shouldn't say that actually! You don't know your English very well."

The class 53 growled. "Watch what you say twit," he threatened.

"Or what?" quizzed the red engine.

The class 53 paused, then murmured something to the red engine that D199 couldn't hear and he couldn't see the class 53's face either since he was facing the other direction. D199 also observed the crews they were talking to each other nearby, but didn't seem to hear what the class 53 had murmured to the red engine. The red engine's reaction would stay in the diesel's mind forever. His right eye twitched and his brow came down so low. His teeth appeared from his mouth, top and bottom gritting each other.

Whatever the diesel had said, he had clicked a button.

Most class 53 were genuinely nice, one of D199's friends before being reallocated was a class 53 and he was nicest in their group within the sheds. The diesels have always said that the steam engines were very sensitive, especially the older ones. He looked away from his buffers and back to the intriguing pair. The red engine began to move away, hissing steam at the diesel.

"Go turn yourself around," he ordered.

"I've got different ends," replied the class 53, "I don't need to turn around."

"Well get onto the train then," said the red engine and he steamed past the diesel. But as he rushed past with no crew in him, D199 noticed something oh his fowler's tender. There was no British Railways logo on it. Only the number five. D199 had heard tales of these engines. Those engines who don't bare their railway's logo and only the numbers. Distinct colours with no real purpose behind them. D199 had now understood what the class 40 meant, he was near the borders of the North Western Region, and island which accepts steam engines. A place which could mean the downfall of British Railways. The class 53 began to move away in the opposite direction, a few minutes later, the red engine came back, reversing on the line the class 53 was once on.

Something then distracted D199, a shrill whistle that sounded from the Western Region came out. He then saw a small pannier tank engine arrive with a small train coming from the same direction as the red engine had. The pannier had a feminine face, young looking but dirty looking. Only that she bared the BR black. D199 watched as she puffed past, like he was invisible to her. He went back to where the red engine was, he looked like he was finishing his conversation with the trucks. The trucks, those devils that every engine agrees are the venom to their rails. He watched intensely, as he heard the honk of a horn, and the class 53 came back into view. D199 watched closely as the other diesel backed down onto the train that once belonged to a steam engine.

Their crews then came strolling back up and began to yell at them, saying how they both weren't allowed to move off without them. It was a rule after all the engines working on a railway. The class 53 rolled his eyes as his driver climbed into his cab and the iconic clicking sound of the diesel's control lever being switched off was heard within his gears. Both D199 and the red engine watched intrigued by this whilst the driver clambered back out of the cab. He came up to the steam engine's crew, they spoke a few words and all three crew members left their engines once again and headed into what presumably be the resting quarters for engine crews. The class 53 was still facing the other way, staring towards an old, brown van. The red engine just looked the other way; luckily not noticing the diesel hiding behind a building.

Then, it happened.

"Biff him!"

"Bash him!"

The trucks began to bump the diesel from behind.

"Stop that right now!" snapped the class 53, looking quite annoyed. The trucks carried on whilst the red engine just looked on with a bemused smile.

"Can't control the trucks!" he remarked.

"Shut it you!" snapped the class 53, "I mean it!"

The trucks banged into each other harder and harder, until...

CRACK!!!

The class 53 began to slowly move forwards.

"What's happening?" he exclaimed.

The red engine looked on in disbelief, but not saying a word as the diesel continued to move.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!!!" shouted the class 53, as began to pick up the pace with the trucks laughing and wailing as they slowly headed towards the mainline. "SOMEONE HELP ME!!"

The crew members all ran out of the shack and the diesel's driver began to run after the diesel. D199 took a sigh of relief as the driver ran after his diesel and luckily going at a much quicker pace then the class 53 and his train. The train then managed to slow 'till it came to a stop. D199 couldn't the diesel and the first few trucks since a building was mostly blocking his view, but he still could hear the yells of the class 53.

"You maniac! I blame that red piece of scrap for this!"

"How could I have done it!" retorted the red engine, "your brakes must be weak!

"You made the trucks do this!" came the yell of the class 53.

"It doesn't matter what was the cause of this incident," shouted the steam engine's driver, "let's just focus on getting him off the mainline before the fast goods arrive!"

Fast goods? Of course there's a fast goods!

Then they heard it. The sound that made all of them.

The sound of another diesel's horn.

"He's coming! He's coming!" screamed the diesel.

"Get him the blazes of the mainline!" shouted a signalman from his box.

"Get me off this line driver!" called the red engine, the driver obliged, and he and the fireman climbed into the cab. Steam pumping into his pistons, the red engine reversed quickly away from the train. The rolling stock began to move back too, but more slowly.

"Come on!" screamed the class 53, D199 almost held his breath. The sounds of a horn came again, much louder than previously. The signalman went back into his signal box as the sounds of vibrating rails and the purring of a diesel were beginning to be heard within the distance. There was a click, and then a yell from the class 53.

"You coward!"

Men were beginning to runaway from the train and D199 saw his own driver running out from the shack and the diesel's driver as well, both ran like a mouse running from a cat. The horn was heard again, the engine of the diesel was beginning to become louder and louder and louder. The class 53 began to curse as the train slowly went backwards, the trucks all murmuring to each other in fear.

At last, the diesel came into view. But it wasn't called a fast goods for nothing. The other diesel came screeching past, too quick for D199 to recognise the class as it went behind the trucks, the shape only being seen for a few seconds through gaps of the other reversing train and disappearing behind the building that blocked some of D199's view only to hear a horrific crash in the next second. Pieces of metal and wood were seen appearing from the building as D199's jaw dropped in shock and his brow raised as the rest of the trucks on the class 53's train tipped over and the fast goods train's trucks piled on top of each after flying in the air with the impact the train injured. After a few more seconds, the sounds of trucks derailing, being tipped over, or crashing back down thanks to gravity. They all stopped. In D199's perspective, you could hardly imagine the state the trains were in.

Men came running back and shouting towards the horrific scene and through the buildings and lighting. D199 could see a red engine, looking on at the bottom of the arrival and departure tracks, he was looking on at the scene with a face of both pity and shock. Something changed within Diesel 199. His brow lowered from shocked, to furious. And his own teeth appeared within the darkness, almost replicating what the red engine looked like a few minutes ago. He began to reverse away into the shadows of Barrow yards and return to the depot within it.

The steam engines weren't good at all. They were monsters. Killing humans and diesels for themselves.

Diesel 199 will make sure that the dieselisation will commence and he will help with getting rid of all of those beasts.

**_1967_**

Cameras flashed, people shouted, Gordon complained as he sat in a siding at Vicarstown next to his brother, the Flying Scotsman.

"You'll get used to it," he said sympathetically, "after a while."

Gordon blinked a couple of times after looking straight into a flashing camera. "I don't think I will 'get used to it' quicker than you have," he replied, "how have you coped?"

"Well..." chuckled the Flying Scotsman, "after reaching one hundred miles an hour it has been quite a celebrity lifestyle."

"Indeed," agreed Gordon, "our books have helped us with our survival an--AURGH!!"

The Flying Scotsman laughed as Gordon cringed from a nearby camera man flashing at him. He blinked a couple of times and looked back to see his brother smirking back at him.

"What you said earlier," mumbled Gordon, slightly annoyed, "I'll get used to it."

The Flying Scotsman chuckled and winked at a camera the other way. Both engines looked handsome, their faces weren't exactly the same like Donald and Douglas' or Bill and Ben's. But you could tell by their faces and not just their shapes that they were related. Steam was at its final stages of being abolished and yet at the same time, it wasn't. With the Beeching Act taking place, old branch lines were able to be saved or preserved like the Bluebell Railway down south of Britain and steam engines were brought from scrap yards or from the railway board to run on these lines. There are even engines being preserved for museums like up in Yorkshire. Gordon found it incredible, it seemed like the ideas of Thesang paid off well.

But Gordon and Scotsman were the only engines of their class left. Scotsman survived by achieving records. Gordon survived by books. Plus a good controller, his name was Sir Charles Hatt, second controller of this railway, son of the first controller, Sir Topham Hatt I. Gordon loved both of them dearly. Plus the recent events a few months made Gordon and all the others certain of their future working on the railway. Even with Stephen Hatt (son of Charles) was non-verbally promising the engines a safe future.

Gordon looked back at his brother, who was trying to make himself look handsome towards the cameras. The big blue engine chuckled to himself lightly. But Scotsman noticed. "What is it Gordon?"

"Oh, just my little brother trying to look impressive," responded Gordon smugly.

Scotsman scoffed. "Scotsman and Scott I'm fine with," he said, "but little brother? Certainly not! Besides, he paused dramatically, "I should call you little brother, since my two tenders and all-"

"Alright! Alright!" interrupted Gordon, "I get it now!"

Scotsman only laughed and smiled at the cameras. Gordon then noticed from the corner of his eye, that two, blue boxes came into the yards. He fully looked over, Scotsman did too and both saw two diesels enter the yard. One looked like a class 46 and the other a class 35. Both surveyed the yard, the class 35 looked content and humble. The class 46 seemed to be the exact opposite, he looked as if he would bash you to pieces if you go up to talk to him. Gordon then noticed the diesel's drivers get out of their cab and go over to the yard foreman. They talked for a while and then headed to the foreman's office. At last, the camera men were ordered to leave the two big engines alone and were sent away. Gordon and Scotsman glanced over to where the diesels were still sitting.

"Have they said a word?" asked Scotsman to Gordon.

"I don't think so," Gordon replied.

Silence echoed in the yard. Gordon made a decision. "I'm going over there."

Scotsman sniffed. "Good luck brother."

Gordon moved slowly towards the pair, luckily he had his control lever on, the two diesels looked over. The class 35 raised his brow whilst the other diesel gave a judgmental glance. Gordon stopped on the track that was a few yards right from the line where the class 46 was. The diesel was now trying to give a threatening glance, but Gordon had gotten so used to these sorts of glares from diesels that he didn't care whatsoever.

"Hullo," he said, "my name is Gordon, what is your's?"

The class 46 didn't reply, keeping his stare on the big engine. But the class 35 gave a friendly grin back. "Hello to you too!" he replied, "my name is D7170 and-"

"Stop talking D7170," spoke the class 46.

"Why can't I D199?" scowled D7170, "we're guests to their region!"

"Railway," corrected Gordon.

"Really?"

"Well... we're slowly getting there."

"You'll never get out of British Rail, scrapheap," growled D199.

Gordon stared back at the diesel for a second, then groaned. "You're one of those diesels."

D199 fumed. "And you one of those scum, you're worse as the Nazis you are."

"D199!"

Gordon only sniffed as Scotsman came up to the left of his brother. D7170 had the face of 'here we go again' and D199 was staring daggers at the big engine. Gordon pondered on what to say. "I believe," he said, "that if you're going to have that sort of attitude, then you might as well keep it to yourself."

D199 sniffed and rolled away. Gordon watched him disappear and looked back to D7170, who looked like he'd rather be dead. The big engine sighed and raised a brow at the hymek. "If you're going to act like that, you might as well take him back to the mainland."

"Oh, no!" replied D7170, "I'm sorry about him, he... hasn't really been that well with steam engines. Ever since I've known him he has hated steam engines to the bitter core of his engine."

"I see," replied Gordon, Scotsman watched his older brother intriguingly. "Well..." he continued, "you might as well stay there."

"Cheers," D7170 thanked.

Gordon reversed and only replied with a , 'Mmm-hm'.

Scotsman followed Gordon. "You sure about diesels?" he asked.

"Pardon?"

"You're letting that diesel off," said Scotsman, "he could be scheming for all we know!"

"Do you?" asked Gordon.

"Diesels can't be trusted," wheeshed Scotsman, "they're the reason why so much suffering has come to us steam engines."

"Not all diesel engines are bad Scott," said Gordon, using the nickname he and their siblings have given the Flying Scotsman, "some diesel engines turned against us because we made them do so."

"You don't know that."

"I do Scott," said Gordon, "I know too much of what happened between us diesel and steam and we've helped make the diesels what they are."

"Diesels are manipulative and seductive," hissed Scott as they both came to a halt to where they were originally, "diesels are scum of the earth,"

"Not all diesels are bad," Gordon argued, "trust me, two have saved my life."

"One, Gordon!" snapped Scott, "that class 28 barely saved you, he only got rid of two troublesome twins pulling your wheels!"

"How do you know about that?"

"Books Gordon! You were the talking point on the lines of London for weeks when that book came out!"

Gordon groaned, of course his closest sibling is more annoying than the class 35. "He still helped me and like I said, there was another who saved."

Scott huffed out. "I just don't want you to lose your world like I have," he said.

Gordon sighed. "Don't worry," he said, "I won't let the others down either."

*

"I want ta kill those wee bastarrds."

"Donald-"

"Och Duck! We nae in public at tha momeint!" wheeshed the Scottish engine, "might as well curse for all I care!"

"But one of them is still here."

"Aye. And?"

"Well this is pleasant," said D7170 sarcastically "never thought I would be so well welcomed!"

Donald wheeshed steam. "Ya better watch ya back, you pesk!"

"Sorry," said D7170, "but you were the one who started being rude first."

"I-I...urgh," Donald pulled out of the sheds to collect his goods. Duck groaned and looked over to the hymek.

"I do apologise on behalf of his behaviour," informed the Great Western engine, "he and his brother saw the full brunt of the dieselisation and his brother was almost scrapped because of it as well."

"That's understandable," replied D7170, "I wouldn't be that too trusting with something that threatened my life."

"They have trust in Boco," continued Duck, mentioning the newest edition to their fleet. "You have to gain it, and it made the poor diesel go mad for it."

Both engines chuckled. "Thank you," replied D7170, "you have been very kind to me."

"Thank you for shutting up that disgusting diesel," said Duck, "the things he said to us were just not supposed to exist in an engine's mouth."

"I know," replied D7170, "I apologise for that. But you've got to admit, he did have a point on one thing."

"Begging your pardon," said Duck, "but what do mean by that?"

"You barely have any female engines," D7170 laughed.

"Oh... that," Duck smiled, a little sheepishly, "we've only got Daisy, and that was back in 1962."

"And that's it?"

"Well, there are more female coaches than males," replied the Great Western, "but... that's it."

D7170 chuckled. "Well I must get going," he said, "my timetable says that I've got the Limited this morning and I don't want to mess it up."

"You haven't messed up so far," said Duck, "you'll do fine."

The hymek diesel grinned. "Cheers," he said.

"I better get your train ready," informed the Great Western engine.

"You sure about that?" asked D7170.

"I am station pilot here," chucked Duck, "I think you need to get ready anyways for your journey."

The Great Western blew his proud whistle and puffed away to arrange, D7170 followed so he himself can get ready.

Meanwhile, an olive green engine watched them both leave. He looked on until he grew a little bored of staring and looked at a red engine, dozing next to him. The green engine rolled his eyes and groaned, then looked back at the red engine.

"PEEEEEEP PEEEEEEEEP!!!"

The red engine jumped and his eyes shot up. "Wh-w-wha-wha?" he exclaimed.

"Wake up!" yelled Henry, "otherwise you'll be late."

"What on earth do you mean," replied James crossly, "I don't have a train for another hour."

"Clearly James," Henry informed snootily, "you haven't looked at the clock yet."

James glared and then turned his eyes towards the clock that held itself on the right side wall of the shed and his eyes widened. "God dammit!" he cried, "driver! Fireman!"

Both his crew members came running up, knowing what James meant Clambering in, James took off like a rocket. Henry chuckled as he followed suit. But he couldn't help but think of what happened last night.

Gordon did warn him and the others about the two diesels whilst at Vicarstown... one of them at least. The class 46 that was called D199 was awful. Calling their railway ugly and outdated. What was worse was that he threatened lives as well, even saying that he would make one of the steam engines smash into Tidmouth station. None of the engines took that nicely that night. Even the class 35 that was called D7170 had to shut him up with the help of Duck too. But what Henry noticed and probably the only one who noticed, was that when D199 came into the yards, and first saw James, his eyes flickered and he looked mad. Like, James had done something to him somehow. Whatever the case, James didn't look like he knew either, because he didn't falter at all when seeing D199.

It was odd. That was all.

Suddenly, Henry found himself bashing into his train. "Watch it you!" called a foreman.

"Looks like Henry is still trying to get used to only using one tender again!" yelled a truck and the others laughed.

"Shut up!" Henry ordered, and he biffed them again. That shut them up and the green engine began to leave the yards, his strong, loud puffing was heard across the yard as he pulled away with his trucks rolling behind. He puffed past the big station, still grand and tall with the canopy glistening in the morning sun. As he rumbled over the junction in front of the station and onto the mainline, he began to pick up the pace. Faster and faster he went, and soon he was thundering along the mainline with wheels being like blurs. His steam puffed out of his funnel like little white balls. He steamed up Gordon's hill and at such a pace anyone wouldn't blame you if you'd see Henry take off into the air at the top. Henry thundered through Maron station. Eventually he rushed past Kellsthorpe Road, but as he did he felt something wrong with him.

"Ohhhh," he groaned, "I've got such a pain."

The driver looked all over his controls. "It's your regulator Henry!" he called, and slammed on Henry's brakes. The green engine groaned again as he felt his back buffers slam against the trucks. It took a while, but Henry managed to stop the train right in front of Crovan's Gate.

"Bother," groaned Henry, wheeshing steam from his pistons with a tint of annoyance.

His driver looked all over him to see whether he had more damage. Luckily he found none. "Just your regulator Henry," he finally said, "but you won't be able to pull this train all the way to Vicarstown."

"Could you be able to fix the regulator?" asked the fireman from the cab.

"I think I can," the driver responded, "but we'd need to take Henry back to Tidmouth... tender first."

"T-tender first?" spluttered Henry, "but they all will laugh at me again!"

"I'm sorry Henry," said the driver sympathetically, "but it's the quickest way to get you back up and running. Besides, your regulator isn't fully broken, just a few tweaks here and there and you'll be running perfectly again!"

Henry groaned once more. "All right, all right," said Henry grudgingly, "let's go."

It was a few more minutes. But the driver managed to force Henry off the line he was on. The Norramby branch diesel then came and took over the train and the green engine was soon puffing down the down line, tender first. Henry groaned and complained whilst going along the mainline. His driver managed to shut him up right when they reached Kellsthorpe Road, Henry begged Eagle the Midland Engine wasn't there. Luckily for Henry, he was at the other end of his branch line and the big green engine puffed through the station trying to be as quiet as possible. Another mile down the line, Henry came to a section of straight track, but at the end of the section was a set of points that led onto a third track for a short distance until it reaches Killdane station and right after the points was a crossing. But as Henry came towards the crossing, he began to hear the sounds of honking horns and shouting.

"What on earth is going on back there?" he demanded.

The driver heard it too and looked out of the cab from the controls. "Well I never," he said and applied Henry's brakes.

"What's going on?!" cried Henry as he began to slow down. He soon got his answer as he came to a stop right next to a very familiar class 46 diesel engine. D199 sat sulkily on the line, broken down and a train full of laughing tar tankers. Henry stared at the diesel who was still looking straight ahead.

"Hello?" Henry said, unsure what to do. He soon did, as a middle aged signalman came out of his box waving his arms about.

"For pity's sake take this spamcan away; it's failed. The Limitedis behind and all he does is wail for his fitter!" he cried out.

D199's eyes darted from looking straight on, to looking up at the red-face signalman. "Spamcan?!" he fumed, "I'm-"

"Stow it!" snapped the signalman, "or I'll take my tin opener to you!"

"Might as well try," sighed the driver, and carefully pulled the control lever on. "We'll move the diesel and his train onto the third line then!" he called to the signalman.

The signalman only grunted a response and strode back into his box. Henry banged into the humiliated diesel. "Whoops!" he mused, "sorry, failed engine. But not as much as you!"

D199 growled. "You piece of vermin," he spat.

"That's not how you treat your hero," continued Henry as he began to heave the heavy diesel and his troublesome tar tankers. It would've been easier, if the diesel wasn't so heavy and his regulator was working properly. But with the help of his control lever, Henry managed to pull the entire train off the crossing. The cars and lorries looked relieved to see the train leave only to be dismayed as the train reversed over the points and onto the third piece of track. Henry never felt so awkward at that moment of time. He made sure he was fully off the crossing. By the time he stopped, the signalman had just allowed the Limited to come through. Henry could hear the prowling of diesel come rolling along. Boco was working on Edward's branch line at the moment and Daisy was well... Daisy. It could only be one diesel.

D7170 rumbled through with his loaded passenger train. Henry chuckled lightly. "Look there Spamcan," he jeered, using the nickname the signalman had given him, "there's your old pal!"

D199 looked the other way, hoping that D7170 hadn't noticed. Luckily for him, the Hymek hadn't noticed. He was having problems of his own. Injectors weren't entirely needed until 1951, when British Railways brought in the Mk1 carriages. They were faceless, meaning that the engine had to have full control over the train with the Mk1 not capable of putting their brakes on by themselves. The Fat Controller had decided that a few Mr1 would come into their service in 1962, some engines didn't like them such as Gordon and Henry, whilst Boco and surprisingly James didn't mind a bit. The injector would make sure that the brakes didn't go on, but D7170's injector had failed whilst going through Maron station. He didn't notice at first, but when going through Cronk, he felt a slight drag from his coaches. Light at first, then harder and harder. Until now, he could barely get his coaches to move at all, he was about to go along the corner, until the coaches' fully went on and D7170's wheels slipped along the rails. He came to skidding stop, tired and very embarrassed.

Henry grinned. "Two diesels on trial, fail on the same day," he said calmly, then he chuckled, "and I thought they'd be laughing at me!"

Spamcan rolled his eyes from behind, but Henry's driver pondered, his fingers on his chin and staring on at D7170's train. "If we could move both D199 and D7170 and their trains to their destinations," he suggested, but the fireman cut him off.

"A failed engine pulling an express train a train of tankers and two dead diesels?" he remarked, "I don't think that's possible!"

"Well it's either that," said the driver, "or the mainline would be getting a lot of delays with two blocked tracks and the Fat Controller won't be too pleased about getting dozens of letters for the next few days."

"It's up for Henry to decide," replied the driver. Both crews and the signalman looked at Henry. "Well..." pondered Henry, "may as well try."

"That's the spirit old boy," grinned the driver, the fireman only sighed and followed the other crew member back into the cab. Henry huffed as he began to move D199 and his train. "Get moving you! Get moving you!"

D199 growled viciously, purposely trying to not move at all. Henry heaved and groaned until he finally buffered up behind the D7170's train. Red in the face and panting crossly. D199 smirked. "Can't even pull me without getting worn out!" he taunted, "how on earth-"

"At least... I didn't... fail moving a train of tankers," gasped Henry, "I have to pull... your fat body... as well. Take you off... and I might as well go tender first."

D199 growled once more. He wasn't going to make this easy. Whilst Henry's fireman couple the big green engine onto the other train. D7170's driver came down and talked to Henry's, so did D199's. After discussing the situation, all crew members went back to their engines to tell them the plan.

"D7170 can help with pulling the train," informed the driver to Henry, "if we use your injector to help keep the brakes off on the coaches he'll be able to help pull the trains as well."

"Thank goodness for that," replied a relieved Henry.

"Plus D199's driver will make sure that his engine will keep his brakes off so it'll be more easier for us," added the driver, "you just focus on pulling and pushing the trains along."

"Yes sir," said Henry. A minute later, the green engine blew his whistle loud and clear. "You ready?!"

D7170 honked back. "Yes I am! I am!"

Henry gathered his steam. His driver checked the injector and control lever and with a huge push, Henry began to move the trains. D7170 began too. With Henry both keeping the brakes off and pulling Spamcan and his train, and D7170 pulling his train as well, the slow cavalry set off to Crovan's Gate.

It was hard work, multitasking on different trains whilst being a failed engine as well. But Henry kept on going with the growling of D7170 being heard at the front and the complaining and discouragement of Spamcan at the back. They rolled past Kellsthorpe Road, Eagle having just entered the yard in disbelief.

"What on god's name..." he trailed off, as he watched them disappear from view. Henry and D7170 kept on going. Huffing and growling.

Until finally, with a last stitching effort. D7170 pulled into Crovan's Gate station with Henry's driver allowing the coaches' brakes to fully jam on and help brake the train to a stop. With D7170 just exiting the platform and Henry just entering it himself, whilst D199, albeit now known as Spamcan and his train of tar tankers laid silently outside the station. Donald and Scott were called from Vicarstown to take the trains on and blasted their whistles loudly as they saw the cavalry come into view.

"Good show Henry!" called Scott.

"Och aye!" agreed Donald, "ya show them diasels a think or tae!"

The passengers all swarmed out of the carriages like angry bees and went skirmishing for the nearest staff member. They were about to go to the stationmaster, when a guard's whistle was heard. Everyone turned to see a well-dressed stout gentleman with a plumb body on a trolley with a microphone in one hand and the guard's whistle he had just blown. Everybody knew he was instantly and immediately fell silently. "Ladies and gentlemen," announced the Fat Controller, with his mouth pressed against the microphone, "I understand that you all are displeased with this delay and I apologise on behalf of the railway. But you must understand that if it weren't for my number three, mostly widely known as Henry, you would all be further delayed and probably would still be stuck where you were before!"

The passengers instantly forgot to be cross and went to Henry and began to praise him.

"You're an enterprising engine!" they all chimed. Henry blushed.

Whilst all the attention was going on. The Fat Controller ordered that Scott would remove D7170 off the Limited and take the train over whilst Donald to move Henry, D199 and the train of tar tankers off away from the Limited. When Scott returned to buffer up to the train, all eyes flickered to the engine with two corridor tenders. Nobody was expecting The Flying Scotsman to take over and were delighted. The railway staff had a harder time getting the passengers back in then controlling their angry yells minutes earlier. Scott left with a triumphant whistle being heard from all distances. Soon Donald was seen bringing back with D199 and his train, he came to a stop where Scott had stood with the Limited.

"I understand I would be takin' this train sirr," he said, "but Spamcan tae?"

"Indeed," nodded the Fat Controller, "he has caused too much disruption on my railway ever since he got here. I won't be having him repaired here, he shall go back to the mainland."

"Aye sirr," snickered Donald, "I'll make sure this ol' Spamcan gits ta the mainland."

"Spamcan?"

"Aye sirr, that's what Henry calls him! Might as make tha name stick!"

The Fat Controller sighed, but couldn't help but smile as Donald pulled the diesel and the train away. He then ordered to call the Tidmouth station to get his papers for reviewing D199's performance and then told Henry to take D7170 back to Tidmouth with him. Henry obliged and was soon puffing back down the line. The driver in control and his reverser being the only one to make Henry move.

D7170 was still very embarrassed. "I am sorry about all of this," he said.

"Don't worry about it," replied Henry, "it's not like an engine as never failed."

"I know but it was on my second day on trial," sighed D7170.

Henry scoffed. "If you did fail you would've failed the trials! I mean your friend Spamcan did."

"He isn't my friend," replied D7170, "he was just an engine that came from a different part of the mainland. We only met five days ago. He was nice on the first day, but when he began to show his opinions to you steam engines. Well..."

He trailed off. Henry said nothing either, just continued on.

*

It would be another day until D7170 was put back into service. Henry was fixed an hour after they returned to the big station. He was told he would be given a second chance by the Fat Controller. But he still felt a bit worried. After all, the steam engines had mostly been so nice to him. Mostly. But D7170 had thought about what Duck had said to him on his second day. He would need to gain the engine's trust. But he would need the advice of another.

Another, who had gained their trust before.

**A/N: Hi all! Sorry for the long wait for content. Life is changing for me at the moment and I hope you understand and the trilogy that I was going to write about after the original book I didn't like that I just decided to redevelop the entire thing. But I didn't want you guys to wait any longer so have this instead. Thank you so much for reading this and hopefully you understand. The trilogy will come out eventually and I hope it'll be worth it.**


	3. Ep40: Little Westerners

"Do ya mean sirr?"

The Fat Controller laughed. "Of course Douglas," he said, as he stood before his engines in front of the sheds. "He is now at our works, Oliver is just what we need for Duck's branch line!"

A chorus of whistles and cheers from the engines echoed through Tidmouth. The Fat Controller had to calm all of them down, but he was right. Henry had taken a new, rescued engine and his coach and brake van to the works. Their names were Oliver, Isabel and Toad. All from breaded from the Great Western Railway.

Oliver, was a 1400 class who was auto fitted like most of his siblings too. Now, he was cocky and could get overconfident, but was kind and liked to learn. So when the Fat Controller told Oliver about why he had a red eye, the others were concerned immediately when first seeing him.

"An infection!" said James, "I mean, he's been through lot's from what I've heard, but he won't be coming near me anytime soon."

"James," scolded Gordon, "you know it isn't contagious right?"

"Non-communicable disease," the red engine replied, "I know that it's just the sclera that's red."

"Juest remember Jeames," said Douglas, "that the wee engine hasn't had a proper wash for so long. It might be one of those wee infections."

"Aye," agreed Donald, "it'll probably be gone once it's been properly treated, he's been given a daily wash around the face. It won't even get tae ya."

"But imagine if it did," mused Henry from the other side of the shed, "the red will match his paintwork!"

"Aye!" grinned Douglas, "it'll be like that red nose thing all over again! Ya know, with the bees-"

"Alright! Alright!" interrupted James grumpily, "don't need to be reminded!"

Then a whistle sounded from the distance. An engine then came into site. "Her' he comes!" called Douglas.

The others all cheered and blew their whistles. Oliver came to a careful stop, he looked smart. His paint in a rich, Great Western green. His coach Isabel had been repainted as well, a cream white at the top and a rich, blood red and the bottom. Toad had also been given a dark grey livery which suited him more than his previous, orange-red. Their faces had been cleaned and were now looking smart. Except for Oliver's red eye. James sniffed from the right side of Gordon, who wheeshed a little steam at him, enough to not make the western engine notice, but enough to make the red engine shut up. Henry gave Oliver a warm smile. "Welcome!" he greeted, "my name is Henry. You must be infamous Oliver!"

The western engine chuckled lightly. "I wouldn't say infamous," he said bashfully.

"How are ya holding up?" asked Donald.

"I feel much better now," replied Oliver, "the railway staff did what they could to make sure they could run but it's much better to have a workshop do it. I feel like I've come out from the place I was built again."

"Good ta her' ya doing fine," smiled Douglas.

"Have you heard of what timetable you've got today?" asked Henry.

"Oh yes," responded Oliver, "I've got pull my first passenger train to Arlesburgh with Isabel."

"Aye ya do," smiled Douglas, "Duck will be there tae."

"Duck?" quizzed the western engine, with an eyebrow raised.

"Nickname given to a fellow western engine of yours," replied Gordon grandly.

Oliver looked over to the big engine and grinned, Gordon knew that sort of grin. All the steam engines that don't belong to their rails have given him such respect and astonishment. "You must be the grand Gordon I've heard so much," said Oliver, "what you did in London was... was incredible and bold."

"Well," said Gordon, "it did come at a cost with no allowance into the capital, but I'm glad I had managed to be a part of something evolutionary."

"You certainly did," said Oliver, "thanks to you, engines of all sorts are getting preserved across the country, with railways becoming private again and out of the-"

"Yeah, I think we all know the story," James said, "we worked with him on these rails when that period came so we all know what happened."

"James," snapped Henry.

James rolled his eyes, Oliver surprisingly smiled back. "Sorry," he said, "just never thought I would be able to meet such an enterprising fleet."

"Now where have I heard that from?" sniggered Donald to Henry, who chuckled in response.

"Now Ollie," said Douglas, "I think it's best if ya refill and take your first train with Isabel, don't ya think?"

"Oh yes," said Oliver, "I'll give you Toad by the way, he's looking forward to being your brake van."

"Och! Me tae!"

"It will be such an honour to be working with you Mr Douglas," came a voice from behind. Oliver smiled and began to pull away with Douglas following in suit.

"He seems a friendly sort," said Henry.

"He's been through a lot my dear engine," replied Gordon, "he might've not thought he would actually make it this far, so he might just want to appreciate us more."

"Ya her' that Jeames?" called Donald, "you might be appreciated for once!"

James growled crossly whilst the other two just laughed.

*

Oliver made excellent time, his passengers enjoyed the ride and the western engine and his coach were filled with a mixture of relief and excitement for running a train again. They arrived at the top station of the branch line on time. Oliver gave a gentle stop next to the platform, the passengers all got out and the western engine began to examine the station and yard. But his eyes fixed on something else within the yard. A Great Western pannier tank engine was right next to the water tower, readying himself for a trip back down the line.

"Umm... hello?" called Oliver.

The Great Western engine looked back and beamed. "Right on time," he called, knowing that unfamiliar voice was belonging to the newcomer. He began to reverse backwards, another track separating them. "My name is Montague, but you can call me Duck."

"Ahhh, so I've heard," replied Oliver, "my name is Oliver."

"Please to meet you," said Duck, "I'm looking forward to working with you."

"Me too," replied Oliver, "how long have you worked this line?"

"Only for two months."

Oliver's brow raised a little. "Two months?" he repeated, "what did you do previous?"

"Worked the yards and station at Tidmouth," Duck smiled, "I have been helping to restore the line and actually pulled a few trains on this line.." he then chuckled, "unbeknown to me the Fat Controller did that so to test me on this branch line."

"I see," said Oliver. Duck then looked back from Oliver and saw his only auto-coach. He turned back to Oliver.

"What's your coach's name?" he asked.

"Isabel."

"Nice name."

"Well I didn't chose it."

"Neither did I," came a cheeky reply.

"Sorry my dear," called Duck.

"Don't be," said Isabel, "I mean, I have to cope with cocky brat for all my life."

"Well thank you Isabel," replied Oliver sarcastically.

Duck laughed at that. "Good to know we've got a signature coach," he said, "but you might need another coach if you're gonna run on this line."

"I think Sir Topham Hatt did mention to me before I left the works that some coaches are being delivered from a scrapyard in Wales, could have something to do with that."

"Possibly," said Duck.

*

Oliver was right, the Fat Controller had ordered new coaches for the branch line. Not the common Mark I, but another three auto-coaches. They were inspected, repaired and repainted at the works and immediately sent to Tidmouth. It had been one and a half weeks since Oliver had come to the railway, by then his red eye had become more pinkish but it was still noticeable. Jame brought the three coaches into the yard, where Duck, Oliver and Isabel were waiting for them eagerly in the yards.

James introduced the three to other trio. "Duck, Oliver and Isabella-"

"Isabel darling!"

"Yes... Isabel. Meet Alice, Maribel and Dulcie," he said, "Alice and Maribel are assigned to you Duck."

Duck looked over to the auto-coaches, who had a cream coat of paint at the top similar to Isabel, but with chocolate brown at the bottom. Dulcie, on the other buffer, had the exact same livery as Isabel. Oliver glanced over to the different coach.

"I'm guessing the other coach is joining me and Isabel?"

"Yes," replied James, who had been uncoupled from the coaches, "now that's it for me, I'll see you guys later."

He pulled away, and puffed past the Great Western engines. Duck ginned at Oliver. "Good luck with your coach," he said, and he went over the points, buffered up to his new coaches and took them away to the station. Leaving Oliver and Isabel with their new companion. Surprisingly, Dulcie was facing their direction. It was good thing too since Isabel was turned to face the same direction as Oliver. It was just by luck. But Dulcie didn't think so, as she looked at something still quite noticeable to Oliver.

"My, my," she said indignantly, "what on earth has happened to your eye!"

"Oh that's nothing," replied Oliver, "just an infection."

"An infection?!" cried Dulcie, "I'm afraid I won't be working with you if that's the case!"

"Won't be working with us?" said Oliver, slightly hurt by the refusal, "I insist you must, otherwise you won't be doing anything at all."

Dulcie only sniffed. Oliver pulled a face at her. Isabel decided to break the tension as quickly as possible. "Now Oliver," she said, "I know you haven't had a refill since we got here, why don't you leave me with Dulcie whilst you do that? It'll at least make us not be stuck on the branch."

"Alright," agreed Oliver quietly, he then shunted Isabel into the back of Dulcie, making each of them face away. Whilst Oliver headed off, Isabel began to talk to the new coach.

"I guess there's no introductions since that red engine did for us," she mused.

Dulcie didn't reply, Isabel carried on. "You must understand that infection to the eye-"

"Looks like the sclera is red," replied Dulcie, "that means it's that very contagious disease from 1953."

"Well it does look like," admitted Isabel.

"You sound like I'm wrong."

"That's because you are," replied Isabel sternly.

Dulcie scoffed. "I'm not wrong," she said, "I've seen that infection and it is painful as hell."

"You had the genavirus?"

"Got in January 1954," Dulcie confirmed, "one of the other auto engines had it before and gave it to me. It was a pleasant experience."

"I wish I understood," said Isabel sympathetically, "but I was the fortunate few in the western region."

"Mmm-hmm," replied Dulcie, "your... Oliver seems to have it. It always starts with the eyes."

"That doesn't mean it's the genavirus," said Isabel.

"And you're so smart?" asked Dulcie.

Isabel harrumphed loudly and gave up on Dulcie almost instantly.

Oliver returned and took the two coaches to the platform where Duck had just been. The platform had been refurbished and was now standing next to the station. Even though the platform could be used in the past, it was only used for wooden creates, rusty trolleys and other junk abandoned on it. Now a passenger guard had blew his whistle and waved his green flag on it. Oliver pulled-well... pushed out of the station with Isabel and Dulcie in front.

The trip ran well and eventually Oliver arrived back at Tidmouth and got a drink at the water tower, he had to take the next passenger train again, he was only allowed to pull passengers since his class was built for that purpose. He soon went back to the station where Isabel and Dulcie were. But as the western engine backed down onto Isabel, the fireman noticed something odd whilst coupling the pair up. He returned to the driver and explained the situation. The driver nodded. "Then we'll have to do it the old fashion way," he said musingly.

Oliver was confused. "Pardon?"

"Isabel's auto-fitted coupling has got a leak," explained the driver, as the fireman went to uncouple the brake pipe and actual coupling. "So you'll have to pull the train instead."

Now Oliver didn't mind this, he had done it before and enjoyed something different. It was Dulcie who did mind, with Oliver's eye still red from the infection and her still thinking it was contagious to any engine, she was horrified when Oliver came up to her.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded, as Oliver came up to her. "He's got an infection!"

Isabel sighed from behind. "It isn't-"

"Get away! Get away!" yelled Dulcie, as Oliver buffered up to him. She wasn't listening to anyone.

"I don't want to be infected!" she said frantically.

"Please Dulcie," said Oliver, who was quickly losing patience.

"No!" said the auto-coach, "being behind him was acceptable, but with him being right in my face? No! It's too much! Therefore I won't be moving when this engine comes even an inch near me."

"Don't be silly," Oliver said crossly, "we're taking these passengers to their destinations and that is final! So look sharp!"

Dulcie glared at Oliver, and as the western engine heard the guard's whistle blowing out loud, he began to make his wheels turn. But the train didn't move. Oliver looked angrily at Dulcie. "Told you I wasn't moving," she said stubbornly.

Oliver began to pull even more, his wheels began to spin and the screeching of Dulcie's wheels was heard, as she began to move slowly along the rails. Dulcie tried harder to stop Oliver, but the western engine wouldn't give in. His wheels began to get faster and faster, the screeching of his wheels was heard throughout the big station. The passengers were all murmuring to each other what was going on outside of the auto-coaches. Sparks flew from the western engine's funnel and he growled crossly and his red eye narrowed, whilst his clean eye widened.

"Please both of you stop this!" ordered Isabel whilst ringing her bell

"I am not moving anywhere!" snapped Dulcie.

"Oh yes..." groaned Oliver, "...you...are!"

Oliver made a great heave, but it was too much on the already strained coupling. It broke with a loud snap, causing Oliver to shoot backwards and leave Isabel and Dulcie. The western engine managed to stop and both he and Dulcie looked at each other. They both knew what was to come next.

*

The Fat Controller surveyed both Isabel's leaking auto-fitted pipe and Dulcie's broken brake pipe and snapped coupling, he nodded thoughtfully as he drew his conclusions.

"I am sorry sir," said Oliver, who had come back a few yards to Dulcie, whilst the Fat Controller was between them.

"I was given information when I surveying the damage Oliver," replied the stout gentleman, "and I do believe that you should've treated this situation a little differently, but you're not mostly to blame."

He then turned around and pointed an index finger at Dulcie's grey face. "As for you," he said sternly, "my coaches work hard and get along with their fellow engines. They shouldn't take matters into their own buffers."

"But sir!" whimpered Dulcie, "he has infection!"

"Yes he does," replied the Fat Controller, "what does he have to do with you not cooperating?"

"H-he has the genavirus."

The Fat Controller paused, then his straight face turned into a small grin, he then turned to Oliver. "Did you tell her what infection you've got?"

"Tried sir," replied Oliver, "but she wouldn't listen to neither me or Isabel."

"My dear coach," said the Fat Controller, spinning his head back to Dulcie once more. "Oliver doesn't have the genavirus! He has another infection called the dirtlean. It's where the engine hasn't been cleaned properly or for so long, making bacteria get into their face and cells. It mainly happens in the eye and isn't contagious to any other engine or rolling stock."

Suddenly, Dulcie realised her mistake. Her cheeks went bright red and she looked down at her buffers in embarrassment. "S-sorry sir," she said.

"Hmmm," said the Fat Controller, "you'd best be sent back to the coach shed then, we can't have auto-coaches not having their couplings or auto-fittings not working properly. Oliver, take them to the coach shed and collect two Mark I coaches. We cannot delay these passengers any longer."

Oliver looked over to the platform and saw the frustrated passengers all back on the platform, the western engine looked back at his new controller - who had stepped out of the way - and smiled. "Yes sir!" he replied and buffering up to his two auto coaches, he began to shunt them to the shed.

Dulcie looked up at Oliver with cheeks still bright as James' red coat of paint. "I'm sorry for thinking you had a contagious virus," she said, "I had jumped to the conclusion you had the genavirus since that's how it all started for me when I had it and I didn't want it again."

"That's alright," said Oliver, "we all made mistakes."

"Oliver always did that dear back on British Railways," called Isabel from behind, as they slowed to go over the points and into one of the sidings. Oliver rolled his eyes and came to a stop with the coaches only continuing slightly for a split second.

"Let's begin anew," proposed Oliver, "don't want a drift between a work partner?"

"No we can't!" grinned Dulcie.

"That's good," said Oliver, "I'll see you both later."

"You too!" both called in unison, as Oliver reversed out of the siding to collect the other pair of coaches.

*

It was only a day for Isabel and Dulcie to return to service and both them and Oliver were glad to be. Oliver's infection in his eye soon went and all three are now great friends. Both Duck and Oliver began to boast about their heritage with the Great Western. After all, they were cousins. The others laughed and began to call their line the Little Western, which was run by Little Westerners. Both Duck and Oliver took pride by this and even asked the Fat Controller to change the name from the Arlesburgh Branch Line, to the Little Western. The Fat Controller delightfully agreed and now nobody ever thinks of calling it anything else.

But the slight incident at the station didn't go unnoticed by the engines.

"He's pretty strong for his size," said Duck to Douglas and Toad one time. "I mean, he only tugged at Dulcie for a few seconds!"

"Aye," agreed Douglas, "quite shoockin' ain't it?"

"Wouldn't be grand Mr Douglas," said Toad, "if Mr Oliver could rip an entire truck into pieces?"

Douglas howled in laughter whilst Duck cringed at thought. "Quite dark Toad," replied the Great Western engine.

"An' barbaric tae!" added Douglas, still laughing at the thought, "I mean, lil' Ollie? Rippin' a truck in tae smither rines! Now that... that will likely never happen!"


	4. Ep41: Bear

D7101 was now a part of the Fat Controller's railway, but he didn't feel like he was.

Mainly because of how he was so... unwanted? That was the best he could say about his situation he was in. He was sold to the NWR and he was glad about that, the island was beautiful and peaceful. But the engines on the other buffer weren't that too keen on him. Henry was basically tasked with showing the hydraulic 'their ways'. The diesel liked Henry, he was kind and understanding. The big engine called Gordon didn't talk much to him, he was observant, to say the least. The rest of the mainline were more open in showing their distrust with him. The red engine called James the twins from Scotland both showed a dislike with the newcomer. But D7101 tried his very best to not tell them to shut up, his temper was short, but to himself, he was doing alright.

One bright morning, a week after Duck's branch line was renamed 'The Little Western'. D7101 was in the yards, being given a lecture by Henry. He was to take slow goods, and the big green engine was telling him how the North Western engines did it. D7101 was fascinated.

"That's much better than the one we have back where I came from," he said.

Henry chuckled. "Of course it is!" he said proudly. But before he could say anything else, Douglas came in with some trucks of his own.

"Whas this?" he questioned suspiciously.

D7101 felt the tension through those words. Henry knew this too, but just gave the Scottish engine a friendly smile. "Hullo Douglas," he said, "I'm just telling D3 with what to do with pulling slow goods."

Yes, D3. D7101 had his name... well the number changed to the diesel number system on the NWR. A diesel railcar called Daisy was diesel one, that Boco diesel the hydraulic had yet to meet, and that leads himself, D7101 to become diesel three. So now he was D3. Douglas raised an eyebrow.

"Did'ne not have trainin' back on his wee railway?" he asked.

"Well... our ways," corrected Henry.

Douglas wheeshed steam unimpressed. "Why?"

"We told you ours as soon as you got here," Henry replied, his smile turning into a frown, "why not D3?"

D3 felt too uncomfortable, even though he wasn't an engine to fight, he did feel like if he did, the Scottish engine would push him off a cliff. "Excuse me fellas," said D3 politely, "it's best if I go."

His engine roared into life, but suddenly, a growling came out of it. The two steam engines winced at the sound. "Och!" said Douglas, "what was tha'?"

"Sorry!" said Bear, looking back at his body, "my engine does do a roar occasionally."

The hydraulic diesel rumbled off and went past Douglas who scoffed a little. "Sounded more like a growl," he murmured. Henry only scowled crossly at him.

*

D3 made excellent progress down the line. He forgot about the run in with Douglas and rumbled down the mainline until he reached Wellsworth station. He came to a smooth stop at the platform. To his surprise, he saw a sleeping diesel in a siding right next to the station platform. It looked like a banker siding, but a massive diesel like itself shouldn't be doing that sort of job. D3 began to look at the diesel's design, it seemed to be a BR class 28, and then when he looked at the big diesel's number, D3 knew who this diesel was immediately. This was Boco.

D3 thought it would be rude to wake the big diesel up, after all, it was impolite and he must've had a busy day. But his engine refused to listen to him. The growling noise of his engine erupted from D3. Boco jumped wide awake and his eyes, dark green like Henry's turned to the hydraulic diesel who sat beside him at the platform. He gave him a hard stare, which made D3 feel the tension from his encounter with Douglas come back, only three times worse.

"Do you mind?" asked Boco simply.

"Sorry!" said D3 quickly, "it's my engine you see, it tends to growl at the most inconvenient times! I didn't purposely try to wake you up!"

The big diesel stared at D3 for a while, then he sighed. "I see," he replied, "my name is Boco, what's yours?"

"I don't have a name," replied D3, "only the number I carry."

Boco looked to the hydraulic's number and smiled. "So you're this diesel three, I've heard about," he said.

"You've heard of me?" asked D3, slightly surprised.

"Henry has told me of you when he stops here," replied Boco, "James and twins do talk about you sometimes."

He trailed off, D3 sighed. "Not good stuff about me then?" he asked.

"They haven't said anything about you for a while," said Boco, "but they're not so keen on you."

D3 groaned, he hadn't even done anything wrong to them at all and yet they were being nasty and horrible to him. "Don't worry about them though," said Boco, who knew what the hydraulic diesel was thinking about, "the three haven't had the best experiences of diesels from what I've heard. It took them a while to warm up to me actually."

"I think someone mentioned that to me," said D3, "but how did you do it?"

"Simple," smiled Boco, "be friendly, kind and helpful. Try and gain their trust and don't be too harsh on them. You get in a fight with those three you'll be back on square one."

"I understand," said D3, the signal then dropped and it was time for D3 to leave.

"Goodbye D3!" called Boco, "and try and fix that growling the next time we meet!"

D3 laughed. "I'll try!"

*

D3 did listen to what Boco had said, even though he had done it previously, he decided to try harder. He offered to help shunt the yard and fetch the other engine's coaches. He was always on time if not early. He was determined to win the engine's trust. Gordon was impressed and showed it and whilst James, Donald and Douglas didn't, they secretly were.

But one cloudy afternoon, when the wind was brisk and the end of the day was about to arrive. D3 was coming into the yards, he felt very pleased with himself. There had been no faults so far, Boco had now become a close friend and had promised the hydraulic diesel that he'll be at Tidmouth sheds tonight. Then he saw a small green engine ahead, he was shunting trucks in the yard. He was too small to be Duck and his paint was too bright to be Oliver. Then who was it? Bear then noticed a bright number six on the side of the cab and realised that number belonged to one of Ffarquhar engines. He had only met one and he was pleasant enough, similar to Gordon in a way. D3 was in too much thought to realise he was being too quiet compared to the small engine's hissing steam and screaming trucks.

Then everything seemed to happen at once. The growl of his engine came out more, furious and loud. The sound startled the little green engine and bumped into the truck way too hard! The truck's screams came out loudly and derailed with coal coming out of them. The small engine was shocked and turned his eyes over to D3 who was just as stunned as he was.

"What on earth was that!" cried the engine.

"Well-I-I-" stammered D3.

"What's going on?"

Both engines looked over to see Donald come from a goods line that headed straight from the Little Western. He was pulling a train of ballast. D3 just groaned, this wasn't going to go well at all.

*

"And he said it was an accident and he wasn't to blame?"

Donald hummed a reply. "Mmm-hmm."

James looked over to Bear at the other side of the sheds. "So the Fat Controller let him off then?"

"The Fat Controller knows Bear has issues with his engine and it came at the most unexpected time," Henry said defensively, "besides Percy has been told by the Fat Controller that he won't be punished either so you can't say it's favouritism."

"Och what do ya know?" scoffed Donald crossly, "the wee bugger caused a mess in tha yard!"

"Did you not listen to what Henry just said?" asked Boco, who was sitting between the green engine and the hydraulic diesel.

"We listened tae it," replied Douglas more calmly than his twin, "but we just ain't convinced."

Boco rolled his eyes. "Just give it a rest you three, what has Bear done to you?"

"Threatened to-wait what did you call him?"

"Excuse me?"

"Ya call him Bear, did'ne you? said Donald.

"It's a nickname, some of us have given him so we don't have to call him D3," explained Henry.

"So he has a name now?"

"Oh come now Douglas," wheeshed Henry, "you and your brother of all engines should know what it's like not to have a name!"

The anger was filling up now for D3, it was getting too much. He was trying with all his might to keep those emotions down. But no one can keep emotions bottled up forever.

"Och! He's a threat to us!"

"I'm more of a threat to you if you keep this up!"

"Look at that, Henry sticking up for that green box on wheels."

"Oh well thank you for telling me what you think I look like James."

"Shut it Boco! I was talking about that failure-"

It was about time he would snap in my opinion.

"Just shut your mouths!" yelled D3, the engines went dead silent, all eyes went to the hydraulic diesel. "I have been helping you for the past few weeks now. Even when you gave me cold stares I still tried to put a smile on my face next time we met. But when I immediately make a mistake, you just want to scrap me instantly! Yet Donald there smashed into a signal box, Douglas creates chaos when losing a special coach and James crashing into a field. All of those accidents happened in your first month? Yet you supported each other anyways! But when it's a diesel, you just go on about how inefficient diesels are and why we should be abolished. You say diesels are vicious beasts who want to kill every single steam engine, but are you any better?!"

The silence echoed through the yard. D3's anger began to sweep away, he looked at Boco and Henry, thinking they would look furious, but they only gave sad, sympathetic looks at him. Donald and Douglas were speechless, jaws dropped and blinking several times. James looked like he was growling. "Get out of the shed," he said harshly.

"James!" finally, Gordon had spoken, he was dead in the middle of them, James and Henry either side of him. He glared at each side. "No engine is deserving to go outside," he stated, "...Bear will stay, whether you like it or not."

"You're on their side!"

"Not all diesels are bad James," said Gordon, "you know who helped us to save the steam engines?"

James sighed. "That diesel thingy helped you."

"Exactly," said Gordon, "most of the steam engines on Thesang are trusting and even feeling sympathetic to the diesels. So stop being a fool and move on!"

James looked more furious, but he only looked down at his buffers and slowly began to calm down. The rest of the sheds remain quiet too. Gordon scanned them all. "Any others want to declare their foolish opinions?"

No one replied, Gordon hummed in approval and closed his eyes. The rest slowly went to sleep too. D3 remained awake though, he thought of what Gordon had said. The big engine had reached national news because of that act. D3 only sighed, he knew he hadn't said something overly offensive to the engines, but he still regretted it. He went unhappily to sleep.

*

The next day, D3 rolled into a siding. It was midday, and his driver wandered off to get some food at the local cafe. D3 began to doze off, his face was still showing the regret and sadness which happened at the sheds last night. But before he fully dosed off, he heard a voice.

"Hello there!"

D3 eyes opened up and he looked to his left and almost jumped. There, standing on smaller rails, was a small engine. He had a red coat of paint with blue stripes. He had no tanks on either side of or even saddles. But a box thing in front of his cab had the look of a coal bunker. His wheel arrangement was a 0-4-0 and his face looked mature. His face hadn't developed into an old machine but his eyes showed wisdom with the slightest glance, people knew that.

"Umm... hello," replied D3.

The small old engine chortled. "My name is Rheneas," he said, "you must be one of those two engines that was brought by Sir Charles Hatt!"

"I am indeed," said D3, "my name is D3."

"D3?" quizzed Rheneas, "I thought your name was Bear?"

"Bear?" said D3, "why do you thin-oh wait. Henry or Boco mentioned me to you, didn't they?"

"Both did in fact," chuckled Rheneas, "now what's got you all in a sorry state?"

"Sorry state?" said D3, "I'm not in a 'sorry state'."

"You look like you did to me," smiled Rheneas.

D3 sighed and explained everything, Rheneas listened carefully. After he was finished, Rheneas seemed a bit cross. "Don't listen to them," he said, "they don't know what they're talking about."

"They're blinded."

Rheneas and D3 looked to see an engine much different design wise compared to Rheneas, but with the same livery and his face showed maturity too, but age hadn't caught up with him, with his eyes sparkling more wisdom.

"What do you mean?" asked D3, with a raised eyebrow.

"Donald and Douglas came here in 1959," replied the other old engine, "they were't really there when dieselisation took effect, but they felt it's presence and they later found a close friend who helped sneak Douglas into the island got cut up for scrap as punishment, as well as some of their siblings. Same goes to James, he's the last of his class and he didn't even say goodbye to his siblings. Diesels who came to your railway or took over their trains to take to the mainland harassed him, it came to surprise that he accepted Boco."

"Indeed," agreed Rheneas, he then blinked, realising something important. "Bear, this is Skarloey. Skarloey, you've heard about Bear from Henry?"

"Yes I have," said Skarloey, "pleasure to meet you."

"You too," smiled D3. Just then, D3's driver came walking up.

"Come on fella," he said, "we need to get to Barrow-In-Furness for our next train."

"All right," responded D3, "hopefully I'll see you two again."

"I think we will," smiled Skarloey.

"And remember what we said," added Rheneas. D3 only smiled back, and tooted his horn. The sound of a low growl came from his engine as he went out of his siding. Skarloey and Rheneas chuckled to each other.

"No wonder Henry and Boco call him Bear," mused Skarloey.

Rheneas winked at him. "Daisy is named after a flower, then Boco is named after his wheel configuration, now Bear is named after an animal! Whatever next, a diesel named after some food?"

*

D3 spent more time with the Skarloey engines, he eventually knew all of them. They told stories about their past. Skarloey told D3 about their little line and people along it and how it's changed through the years. Rheneas talked about the adventures he and Skarloey had along it, it seemed to D3 they considered each other as brothers. There was also this little diesel engine that talked about the maintenance on their line and how they kept in perfect order. D3 was amazed by all of it. But not as much as the tales from Sir Handel and Peter Sam. The two would talk about their new railway, their old one, and their experiences from it. They talked a lot about an engine called Duke, 'Granpuff' they called him, like he was a grandad. Sir Handel told the story of when Peter Sam was tricked by Duke with making passengers think he had broken down instead of Duke. An embarrassed Peter Sam retorted with a story about Sir Handel almost tipping over a hillside and Duke having to rescue him. D3 laughed as the two argued with each other, until Rheneas scolded them almost immediately when he returned from pulling a train.

It had been two weeks after D3 had snapped out in the sheds. James and the twins had been quiet about the hydraulic diesel for sometime now. But one day, Douglas came into the station with D3's passenger train. Rheneas was confused when the Scottish engine came into the station.

"Hullo Douglas," he greeted, "where's Bear?"

"My fire wouldn't start properly," Douglas explained, "so the wee diesel had to switch roles with me todae."

Douglas scoffed. "Did'ne know why the Fat Controller had to choose him," he said, "I would've gone for Donald or James or even-"

"Douglas."

Douglas looked down to the gallant old engine. His face was stern. The Scottish engine looked confused for a few seconds, then realised what Rheneas meant. "Nae ya tae," Douglas said, almost like he was groaning.

"You haven't given him a chance yet," said Rheneas crossly, "you won't if he isn't like other diesels if you don't give him a chance."

"We gave him a chance thoogh," replied Douglas, "but instead, he scared Percy almost of tha rails!"

"From what I've heard, that was an accident," said Rheneas, "he can't help his growl and besides, it wasn't really a chance when you barely talked to him the entire time."

Douglas looked away, thinking about anything to defend himself on, but nothing came to mind.

"Bear thinks he's unwanted from your railway," continued Rheneas, "he's kind, helpful and a hard worker. You must see that in him at least."

The guard's whistle blew from the back of Douglas' train, the Scottish engine then pulled off without saying a word. But Rheneas already knew that Douglas was thinking about his actions.

*

Meanwhile, D3 and Boco were at Wellsworth yards. Boco had returned from pulling a goods train and was resting before taking a train to Tidmouth. Just then, James rattled by with a long, and what looked heavy, passenger train. He racing along the line, his face red and sweating with ash. He rushed through the station and carried on towards Gordon's Hill until D3 couldn't see his brake coach.

"Wonder why he's trying to knock himself to bits," joked D3.

Boco scoffed in bemusement. A few minutes later, D3 was shunting some trucks into a siding and Boco was preparing to leave for the big station, when the signalman came out of his box. "For petty sake!" he called to the two diesels, "number five has broken down at Maron station with the Limited. Diesel number three, you'll have to rescue him, serve him right for trying to be fast!"

Without any response, the signalman walked back into the signal box, muttering under his breath. Boco looked at D3. "Are you going to be fine with that?" he asked.

D3 smiled confidently. "Oh please," he said, "I'm not some man-child that cries every second."

*

James stood at the platform, steam wheeshing everywhere. He grumbled dreadfully, his driver was cross too. "I warned you about going too fast for your own good," he said, "now you burst your safety valve and these passengers won't be going to their destinations in time!"

James only huffed. "I'm still running early," he muttered.

He then heard a toot of a horn and purring of a diesel. James looked back to see D3 roll up alongside him.

"Hello James," greeted the hydraulic, "I guess you know why I'm here?"

"Pretty much," James replied, "you'd better hurry! That diesel from the other railway will he taking the train in from Barrow and he's strict with the schedule,"

"I've pulled this train a couple of times to know what that diesel is like," chuckled D3, then he faltered, "wait, we're talking about that Class 50 that looks like he wants to rip you apart?"

James and the diesels on the other railway didn't get along and D3 had seen their arguments before. The class 50 was the worst and would criticise the railway in any way possible. The red engine raised a brow. "Yeah," he said, "that's the one."

"And he'll probably never let you hear the end of it when he sees me pulling you in."

James' frown deepened. "Well there's I can do?" he said, "now hurry it up!"

D3 began to pull off, then his engine growls viciously, James cringed by hearing the sound. Suddenly, an idea popped into D3's grills. "James," he called, "I think I have a way to make that class 50 see a little sense."

He quickly explained his plan, by the time he was finished, James was wearing a small smile on his face. "It could work," he said, "let's try it."

Soon enough, D3 had shunted him and James into position. The hydraulic diesel had placed James right at the front and himself between the red engine and the coaches. By the time they had done that, they were a few minutes late, but they both didn't care. The guard blew his whistle and waved his green flag, and Beat began to rumble out of the station.

"Come on! Come on! Come on!" he growled to the coaches.

"You're doing it! You're doing it!" called James.

A short while later, the Limited was soaring down the line once more. The coaches came smoothly along, and James wasn't causing any difficulties to D3 at all. Passengers' stares came from all directions as they ploughs through stations. Even other engines who saw them had a confused glance.

They were reaching Henry's tunnel and F3 gave a toot of his horn. "I believe it would be best if you start our plan now James!" he called.

James agreed, they entered the tunnel and came out the other with James' steam pouring out of his funnel, just as if he was pulling D3 and the Limited himself.

They reached Barrow-In-Furness, just as click hit the hour. The class 50, stood at another platform. He was surprised to see James wheeshing steam and coming to halt, pulling in D3 and the Limited.

"What is this?!" he demanded.

"Oh, this diesel behind was taking the Limited," explained James.

"I thought it was you?"

"Had to do some shunting," smirked James, "I offered D3 to take the train instead."

He looked back at D3. "Surprised he got over our hill with the sound of that engine," he finished.

"Pah!" snorted the class 50.

Then out of nowhere, the low growl of D3's engine came out of nowhere. The class 50 jumped and James looked back. "That engine is still going?" he called.

"Playing up again unfortunately," smiled D3, "can't help it!"

James sniffed and then looked at the class 50. "Of course steam engines have to rescue you diesel engines," he said in a taunt, "tell me, is it us that's useless? Or are you just trying to find an escape goat so as to blame your failures on us?"

The class 50 seethed, but said nothing, as James wheeshed more steam, and as quietly as possible, D3 pushed him out of the station. Like it was James pulling the Hydraulic away. James trying to hold back stifled laughter; whilst D3 tried his best not to grin.

James' safety valve wasn't in need of extensive repair, and was repaired quickly by his driver in Barrow yards. Both then picked up a small goods train and headed back to the big station. By the time they got back, the Fat Controller was waiting for them. He looked very pleased.

"Well done diesel three!" he said, "I'm very pleased with your work effort this week and you have shown me today that you are a reliable asset to this railway!"

"Thank you sir," replied D3 gratefully.

"As a reward," declared the Fat Controller, "I shall give you nameplates, but they can't come blank. What would you like on them?"

D3's grinned widened. "Are you giving me a name sir?" he asked. The Fat Controller smiled and nodded.

D3 grinned and pondered the thought. "I'd like to have Bear on them sir," he said.

The Fat Controller blinked. "Bear?" he said,

"Yes sir."

The Fat Controller was a little surprised for the diesel to go with an odd name, but he smiled nonetheless. "Bear it shall be then," he said, he then nodded to James and left for his office.

D3 and James then went to the sheds, it was getting dark and all the other engines were there. When D3 came to a stop, he heard a low hiss from beside him. He looked to see the Scottish twins.

"Listen lad," started Douglas, "we're sorry about being rude tae ya."

"Aye," agreed Donald, "we thooght we were given ya a chance. But it really wasn'e."

"Can we start fresh?" asked Douglas.

D3 grinned. "Of course," he said, all three engines then turned to see James explaining the whole deal to Gordon, Henry and Boco.

"So that's why you looked so odd," chortled Henry, "clever plan there Bear!"

"Yes," smiled Gordon, "good work for you D3."

"Actually Gordon," interrupted James, "it's Bear now."

The engines looked surprised. Gordon looked down at James with a raised brow. "Bear," he repeated, "and thought you didn't want diesels to have names."

"Well..." said James, who looked over to D3 and smiled, "Bear isn't like those diesels."

The hydraulic diesel felt something flow within his engine, he smiled at James. After being on the railway for a few weeks now, Bear felt like he was on a railway he can call home.


	5. Ep:42 Haunted Henry

**A/N: This story gets adapted way too much, but I can't complain either. The reason why this has come sooner than others is because of the events that are occurring across the world. Hope you all stay safe and enjoy!**

**_1968_**

"And on every year, on the date of the accident, it runs again. As a warning to others, plunging into the gap, shrieking like a lost soul!"

"Ahhh! Scary!" cried out Henry as he backed into the shed.

James scowled at this. "Now you just ruined the tension Henry," he said crossly.

Henry smirked. "There was probably no tension in that story at all," he replied.

James' driver had seen a movie from the 1940s called the 'The Ghost Train' and now the red engine was a spree of telling tales of ghosts and spooky stories. It was creepy at first, but now it was getting repetitive to Gordon and Henry. Duck and Oliver, who were staying in the sheds that night wasn't finding it intriguing either. Oliver just smiled in bemusement whilst Duck would just roll his eyes.

"God, no wonder I left these sheds," murmured the Great Western engine. It was lucky thing that James didn't here, since he was too invested in arguing with the big green engine.

Gordon groaned, he hated it when the engines started arguing. "Can you all please be quiet," he said, "I've got an express to pull tomorrow and I can't have you all barking about how bad James' stories are."

Silence came from within the sheds. "Well..." said Henry, "they are bad."

"Mine are better than yours!"

"Oh, for goodness sake! What did I just-"

A toot of a whistle distracted the three big engines looked to see a bright blue engine come backing into the sheds. Everyone knew who he was. Edward parked himself between Gordon and Henry. He grinned at them "I could hear you all the way on the other side of the yard," he stated, "how the residents here haven't complained about it I do not know."

"Because they gave up years ago," murmured Duck to Oliver.

"Henry thinks I can't tell a good ghost story," James told

"Because you can't," snorted Henry, "you're rubbish!"

James angrily wheeshed steam. "I'm better than you at least," he retorted.

"Oh please," scoffed the green engine, "I would never tell tall tales of ghosts, they're silly make-belief things just to scare the young ones."

"Remember Samson."

"Samson was a spectre James, he doesn't count in this matter."

"Who's Samson?"

All the engines looked to the corner of the sheds to see an innocent-looking, but curious Oliver. The engines then remembered Oliver hadn't been around at that time and gave him awkward smiles. "Nothing to worry about," Gordon.

Oliver wasn't convinced, but subsided. Henry on the other buffer, didn't. "I still stand my case," he declared, "ghosts aren't real."

"You did believe they were real once," said Edward sweetly.

The engines all stared at the old blue engine for a while, then Henry gasped. "That one doesn't count either!" he exclaimed.

"It does really," replied Edward.

"Go on, tell us," James smirked. Duck and Oliver also urged Edward to tell the story. Henry tried his very best, but even Gordon began to asking Edward about it. Eventually, the green engine gave up and Edward began his tale.

**_1929_**

The Great Depression had begun around in August and by September lines were heavily at risk such as the Arlesburgh and Ffarquahar branch line. By the end of it, Sir Topham Hatt, the first controller of the North Western Railway, decided to get rid of the loop line. This line wasn't special, but when building the mainline for the NWR in 1915 that line was considered to be narrow to be a mainline. The loop line was left there though and was given a set points halfway along, so engines go around and go back the way they came from. The line starts at Tidmouth junction and rejoins the mainline a mile out before reaching Thomas' junction. The line was only used for engines to turn back around to Tidmouth or do test runs on it, other times it is used by smaller engines, whose trains couldn't fit the gap of the timetable or felt it better to go without being disturbed by the bigger engines like Gordon.

When the news broke out, the engines were a little sad, but none more than Colin.

Colin was a small little engine, like Percy, but was painted red with gold lining. He was kind engine but was soft and oblivious at times. Basically, he wasn't a bright engine. But he did his work without fuse. He enjoyed the loop line more than any engine, going on it almost every day. So, when the Fat Controller asked who would like to be signed to take the line apart, Colin almost immediately volunteered. For the first few weeks, whilst taking the rails away from the line the engines use to turn around on.

When Gordon heard about that section of the loop line had been taken apart, he had a tight smug on his face. "Good riddance," he said to the engines that night at the sheds, "that loop line should've been deposed of ages ago!"

Lily the vintage engine scowled at Gordon for the remark. "That line was very special to Colin," she said to the big engine, "it's like if your express was going to be taken away from you."

"Pah," snorted Gordon, "that would never happen."

Colin remained quiet. Henry, who had his old shape back then, looked over to Colin. "What's up with you?" he asked.

"I just don't want the line to go," he said sadly.

"Well tough luck," replied Henry, "we all lose something in hard times, these are hard times, so you just have to get used to it."

Lily overheard and scowled at the big green engine. "Why can't you ever understand empathy Henry?" she asked.

Henry stared at the vintage engine for a moment, but Gordon decided to break the silence. "Because Henry is right my dear Lily," he said, "we all know that little line wasn't special, and it was inevitable that it would be taken down."

"But that still doesn't mean Colin isn't allowed to mourn," Lily replied.

"Paah," wheeshed Gordon, "Colin is a little tank engine! Small, small, small. Teeny-weeny-weeny."

"And what is you reason with that?" seethed Lily.

"Because I," boasted Gordon, "I, am a big engine who knows everything."

"Evidently not," said Lily.

Before Gordon reply, Henry came to back him up. "Don't listen to her," he said, "she doesn't understand."

"Indeed," said Gordon quietly.

Colin still felt miserable and the engines soon went to sleep. But the next morning, the engines woke up to see rain pouring down through the cracks of the doors.

"Perfect," said Henry sarcastically.

"Better be careful Henry!" called Colin innocently, "don't want your paint to get ruined."

"Yes, thank you Colin," replied Henry, the green engine knew that Colin didn't mean to joke about, he wasn't like James or Thomas. But he had to have every ounce of steam to make sure he didn't snap. The firemen soon came, and then their drivers. They opened the doors and the engines eventually puffed out into cold air, albeit begrudgingly.

Colin picked up the works train and headed to the loop line. When he got there, they began to take away the rails at the other end of the line and replace the points with normal straight track. Colin didn't like it at all but could only watch and pull the trucks along the line as to where the workmen want them. It was beginning to get dark, but eventually, Colin came to a stone bridge. The stone bridge was old but was able to take the weight of Colin and his small works train. The workmen inspected the bridge carefully.

"Should we leave it?" asked one workman.

"We could," replied the foreman, "but I think it's best if we ask Sir Topham Hatt about this, we need to make sure on the matter."

Colin who was solid ground, looked above, the bridge went over a stream, and with the rain still tipping it down, the waters had risen and the pace of it had quickened. The little shunter didn't like that one bit. "Can we go please?" he asked anxiously, "I don't want to get swept away."

"You know you're on solid ground," laughed his driver, "even if the bridge collapsed, you'd stay on the rails."

Colin blushed a light red. Soon the workmen decided to leave the bridge and head back to the big station. But as Colin began to puff away from the viaduct, he could feel someone watching him.

*

The Fat Controller went to visit the stone bridge the next day. It wasn't raining, but dark grey clouds covered the sky. Colin had only brought an inspection coach, and the Fat Controller observed the bridge similarly to how the workmen did yesterday. He then went back to Colin and his crew.

"I think it will be fine," he said to them, "all that matters is getting rid of the rails. Best if we head back now, I'll make arrangements to have Colin and the workmen come out here tonight."

"T-T-Tonight?" said Colin shivering a little.

"Do you have a problem with that Colin?" asked the Fat Controller, raising a brow.

"N-N-No sir," stammered the little engine, as they began to leave for the big station again, Colin felt eyes staring upon him once more.

That evening, Colin didn't feel too well, the workmen tried to make him better, but nothing worked. "The only engine available is Henry," said the shed master to an inspector.

"Then he'll have to do it," sighed the inspector. When the hybrid engine heard about this, he was fuming.

"Why do I have to go down that uncomfortable line?" he demanded. Henry had only been down that line once and found most unpleasant. He tried his very to persuade his crew and workmen, but he eventually gave in. He snorted out of the shed and whooshed past Colin rudely.

He hoped Gordon or James didn't see him, but luck wasn't on his side that night. Gordon was backing down towards the sheds as he saw the hybrid engine be coupled up to a line of trucks in front of him. He burst out laughing and came to a stop next to red in the face Henry.

"Oh, dear Henry," he chortled, "never thought I'd see you taking a works train!"

The blue hybrid engine's boiler temperature suddenly shot up. "The only reason why I'm doing it is because I was the only engine available at the time," he said, "if you only got here sooner, I bet you'd be on this train before you would've said express."

Gordon laughed once more. "I never pull trucks Henry!" he said, "they aren't to my standards."

"Not to your standards," scoffed Henry, "you're just scared."

"Me?! Scared!? Of what?!"

"Of the line being haunted," replied Henry, saying like it obvious to Gordon.

Gordon sniffed indignantly. Then, from within the night sky, the sound of an owl, hooting through the air was heard. Gordon grinned; he had an idea. "Well Henry," he said mysteriously, "the line is haunted."

Henry raised an eyebrow. "Whenever an owl hoots," explained Gordon darkly, "a mist rolls in and a ghost comes to haunt the tracks of the loop line."

"You just made that up," replied Henry, "where did you get that stupid story?"

"Vagabonds talk a lot," the big engine smirked, "but if you don't believe me, then see for yourself! Take care on the line Henry!"

Gordon then puffed off, leaving Henry in the cold yards. The hybrid engine only rolled his eyes. He buffered up to the train of flatbeds, vans and open wagons in front of him, with the work's coach behind him. A porter blew a whistle to notify the driver of the line being cleared and Henry began to push the train towards the loop line.

When Henry got to the set of points leading him to the line, he began to think Gordon's ghost story. "Owls, ghost, mist!" he huffed, "Gordon is just been an idiot once again, we heard that owl hoot ages ago and there's still no mist and there won't be any for the rest of the night!"

But Henry was wrong.

The mist came in thick and by the time Henry was reaching his destination, he could see a few yards. The trucks couldn't see either and grumbled bitterly, the workmen did too. "We can't take the rails away if we can't bloody see!" complained one.

"Aye," agreed another, "might as well turn back."

The foreman sighed. Then the train came to a rough stop. "What's going on?" growled the foreman, he looked out of the window. "Oi! What are you doing with stopping suddenly?"

"Sorry!" called Henry's driver, "but there's an amber lamb in front of us!"

"An amber lamb? What does that mean?"

"Means we need to proceed with caution!" replied the driver. He leaned against Henry's cab and peered into the fog. "Who's there?!"

No one replied. The driver put his head back into the cab and put the brakes, Henry crept forward. He was a little nervous, owls hooting, mist appearing, ghosts next. Henry pleaded to Gordon in his mind that he was just making it up.

A little further up the line, Henry, came towards a swamp. The line just curved in front of them which lead to the viaduct, it only hid the line with a huge rock. Then Henry looked to see a platform with a ruined building sitting alone with a crossing to a road wedged between the curve and abandoned building.

The hybrid engine was confused and so was his driver, he was looking at a sign which had been forced onto a dead tree next to the line saying in bloody red letters:

BEWARE OF THE VIADUCT

"No one warned us about that," said the driver, "and look, the signal is red a-a-and there's an old fogman's coat!"

He was right, hooked onto a tree, was an orange, dirty coat. It flapped in the wind and Henry felt very unease by it. Suddenly, the gates on the level crossing began to shut close in front of Henry. The creaking of old wood and groaning of old freaked the poor engine out.

"G-G-Ghosts!" he yelled, "Gordon was right!"

"Something very strange is going on," said the driver to the fireman, "I think it's best if we go back."

The gates then stopped moving as soon as they faced Henry, blocking his path like a fortress. "S-So do I," stammered the hybrid engine, the driver opened the reverser, and the engine backed up quickly along the line, with the trucks clattering in front of him.

*

The next morning, Colin woke up feeling much better. He came up to Henry looking bright and cheery. "Thanks for taking my train last night Henry," he called to the hybrid engine.

"Yes-well," pondered Henry, shivering a little.

"What's the matter now?" asked Colin.

"The line didn't look safe last night," Henry replied quickly.

"Safe?" said Colin, "what's the matter with it."

"There were all of these warnings to make us go back, so we did."

"Did you reach the bridge?"

"Only got to that abandoned station at that swamp," replied Henry, "that's when the gates closed on us."

"Gates closed on you?" said Colin, "that's impossible!"

"Well it isn't," huffed Henry, slightly annoyed and he snorted away to fetch his next train.

Later that day, Henry was back at the sheds when his driver came running back up. "We can take the train back up to the bridge tonight Henry," he said. Henry was confused and very annoyed.

"Why do I have to take?" he demanded, "Colin could take it up there, he seems fine with it now and I need to take the first train of tomorrow!"

"We're only taking the train up there," said the driver, "then we head straight back here. It'll be less of a hassle for Colin since he's needed here to shunt the first trains of the day."

Henry was very annoyed, then he realised something. "Wait, aren't the workmen coming with us?"

"No."

Henry spluttered. "But why?"

"They were more spooked than us last night, and refuse to go down it at any time of the night," explained the driver, "and without a steam engine with them, I'm guessing they don't want to be stuck there whilst strange things are going about that line."

Henry was very annoyed, it wasn't fair. The workmen could go with Colin in the morning, but Henry was forced to take the train down that haunted line. He was grumbling for a few minutes on his own, but not for long.

Gordon came up to Henry with a large smirk on his face. "Any encounters with ghosts?" he asked cheekily.

"W-What?" said Henry, "n-no. Nothing at of the ordinary down that line, we were just fine."

"That train of trucks that you were supposed to take down that line says not," replied Gordon, "I'm guessing you were too scared to go down it."

"Me?" snorted Henry, an angry frown planted onto his face, "everything going down that stupid line kept telling us to stop!"

"Probably because the ghosts don't like fat blue engines on their lines," chortled Gordon.

"If I'm fat, then you would be ginormous," retorted Henry. The big, blue engine frowned indignantly, but before he had a chance to reply, the blue engine left the bigger engine behind in a cloud of steam.

*

Later that night though, Henry was sizzling nicely in the yards with the train of trucks in front of him again. One empty flatbed for the rails. Four vans of different colours, shapes and sizes. And two open wagons at the front.

No brake van at all, there was no point in one at all. Henry gave a relaxing smile to himself.

"No owl hooting, steam is good so far," he said, "and there's no mist. Everything is going-"

An owl hooted suddenly and Gordon gave a loud, booming whistle. Henry jumped whilst the trucks laughed. The big, blue engine came up alongside the hybrid blue engine. Just like the way they did last night.

"Take care," chuckled Gordon, giving Henry a wink, "hope the ghost doesn't get you!"

"Pah!" snorted Henry, "there's no such thing as ghosts!"

"Suit yourself," chortled Gordon, as he puffed off once more, "but don't say I didn't warn you."

Henry growled crossly as the trucks kept on laughing. "Henry is spooked!" joked one of the trucks and the others burst out laughing again.

"Be quiet!" snapped Henry, giving them a sharp bump, "I'm not spooked or scared at all!"

But he was, as he began to shunt the trucks towards the line once again.

The mist began to fall, Henry's chuffing sounds became louder and rattled in his smokebox. He felt the rails hum beneath his wheels. The mist was thick and trucks chuckling to each other. Then it happened. The yellow light was seen through the cloudy white.

"Here we go," murmured the driver, as Henry puffed right past the lamb.

Then everything happened at once.

The humming rails began to vibrate violently. The trucks shook about and the howling of the wind began to grow louder and louder. "What's going on?" cried Henry, as they headed towards the station by the swamp. Then the gates began to close by themselves, and the signal forced itself down to show it's glaring red light. The trucks had had enough.

"On! On! On!" they screamed, "there's a ghost about!"

"Stop! Stop!" wailed Henry, but the trucks didn't listen, as the hybrid engine felt the tug of the flatbed's coupling. The sign nailed on the tree suddenly came right off and hit Henry's boiler. "Ouch!" cried Henry, but before he realised, the trucks rammed straight through the level crossing and around the hidden bend.

A mysterious figure watched Henry go by on the rotten platform.

Then as Henry came around the bend, he gasped in shock, as most of the bridge had vanished. His driver applied his brakes, but it was no good, the trucks clattered over the remains of the fallen bridge and into the river below. Henry luckily managed to stop just in time. The flatbed's front bogies were floating over the river whilst the rest of the trucks remained a mess within the river below. Then as Henry began to control his breath, he heard a mysterious, ghostly voice. It sounded gruff and had an echo of it behind it.

"Terrible things will happen to you..."

Henry gasped, as he saw an old man with brown overalls looked over to the hybrid engine, he turned and walked away. The driver peaked out of the cab and groaned. "Someone could've warned us about the bloody bridge being down!" he yelled.

The fireman also peaked out of the cab. "Sir Topham Hatt won't be happy about this," he said.

The driver shook his head, putting his head back in the cab and grabbed the handle to the brakes with his pale hand. He tried to release them, but the handle wouldn't budge, he tried again, harder this time. Still, the handle wouldn't move. The driver groaned even louder. "The brakes are wedged in," he said, "Henry won't be going anyway this time tonight."

"Well I'm not either," declared the fireman, "I'm not walking down the line at this time."

"I agree with you there," the driver replied, "I guess we'll be stuck here for the rest of the night; you hear that Henry? Henry?"

Henry just remained silent.

*

"Henry was picked up Gordon at the crack at dawn as I recall," said Edward, "they luckily managed to fix his brakes just before his first train. The trucks were pulled out of the river later that day and the line continued to be dismantled, until there was no stone of ballast to be seen."

"What happened to the bridge?" asked Oliver.

"It was said that the river's current had weaken the arches crossing the river and gave way a few minutes before Henry got there," explained Edward, "the remains of the bridge is still there, as well as that station."

"How do you know all of this?" asked Duck.

"Well someone was feeling a little paranoid at the time and came to me for help," smiled Edward to a red in the face Henry the green engine.

"Why tell them this?" demanded Henry.

"Well, it has been over thirty years," Edward replied, "it was about time that they knew of this."

"So what was the voice supposed to be?" asked Oliver.

Henry pondered on the thought for a few seconds. "I just came to the conclusion that with me panicking so much, that I must've been hearing things, the wind wasn't helping either."

"Ahhh, I see," said Oliver.

"Well then," sighed Edward, "I think it's best we all go to sleep."

Duck and Oliver still had many questions about the whole story but decided to let it slide and ask in the morning. James also turned in for the night and fell asleep soon after the Great Western engines. Gordon and Henry remained awake though, with Edward dozing off between them.

"Listen, um... Henry," whispered Gordon as quietly as possible so not to stir Edward. "I'm... sorry about being so rude to you and making up that ghost story. It was unprofessional and I didn't realise my effects would harm your mental abilities."

Henry blushed a shade of red and smiled. "Thank you, Gordon," he replied, "but you don't need to apologise. Even though you're still the same stuck-up, boastful and prideful engine I've met. You've grown a lot since you first coming here. Well... after you showed your true nature."

Gordon scoffed with a chuckle following it. He glanced back at Henry and smiled warmly at him within the moonlight. "Thank you, Henry," he said, "it's great to have a friend by my side."

The big engine then shut his eyes, and went to sleep, but when he did. Something hit hard in Henry, the smile became a frown and he looked down at his buffers in sadness and disappointment. "Friend," he murmured quietly to himself, then he went to sleep. The yards went quiet after that, with only the wind bristling within the trees.


	6. Ep43: Anything For The Express

**_1969_**

Gordon is a fast, express engine. He is the engine who pulls the Wild Nor' Wester, he was also very popular with the steam engines in the United Kingdom since the 1960s and his representation was very high. Gordon would keep being asked about moving away from the island, but the big engine would always think the idea ludicrous, he was content with his life on the island, thundering down the line with his express coaches singing behind him.

But when Gordon is busy or ill, other engines would take his role as the express engine. Henry, James, Boco or Bear are proud of taking these trains, the diesel engines didn't let it go to their exhausts. But James and Henry let the pride go into their smokeboxes with such ease, that some engines think they were doing it on purpose when they would brag to them.

On one spring morning, Gordon didn't feel too good, his face was pale as a ghost, but his cheeks were as black as coal. An inspector came to examine him but couldn't find the problem. "You'll have to go to the works to have a proper examination number four," he said, "the workshop are too busy at the moment, so you'll have to stay in the sheds for the time being."

"Perfect," groaned Gordon, "who'll take the express?"

"Number five will have to pull it," sighed the inspector. James, who was still in the sheds was very pleased.

"You here that Gordon?" he said proudly, "I'll be pulling the express, possibly better than you."

"Improbable," replied the big engine, "the Fat Controller wouldn't approve of a tender engine your size to constantly pull it. You'd break down within two weeks."

"We'll see," smirked James, "but if I stay on it longer than that, then your days will be numbered as the express engine."

"The express's days will be numbered if you took over," scoffed Gordon. But James just ignored and puffed snootily away to the big station.

*

James did splendidly on his run, the passengers were grateful, and he ran on time. The Fat Controller was very pleased with the red engine's work. "I'll have to keep you on express runs until Gordon is repaired," he told James.

The red engine was very proud of this, he didn't realise that the Fat Controller only did this because Henry, the Scottish twins and the diesel engines were all busy with other work and that James was smallest engine meaning he wouldn't be needed as much with the larger trains, but the red engine didn't hear that part. He only listened to the parts he wanted to hear. He bragged and boasted about pulling the express to anyone, until one night at the sheds, the other engines lost patience.

"I swear Jeames," glared Donald, "if ya keep telling us aboot how ya tha pride of the line repetitively, I'll constantly tell ya things ya don't want to be reminded aboot... repetitively!"

James scoffed. "Oh please," he said, "like what."

"The time ya crashed into some tar wagons," said Douglas.

"The time you needed bootlaces," added Henry.

"I swore Percy told me of the time you did a hydroslip an-"

"Alright! Alright!" snapped James, "I get it!"

The engines then went quiet, but unfortunately not for long.

"But apart from that-"

"For god's sake!" cried Bear, "shut up James!"

"You know if you keep acting like this," said Henry, "you will get what's coming to you."

"Like what?" asked James.

"You know how this all plays out James," Henry warned, "you keep acting like this, I'm afraid you could be on maintenance trains whilst you watch one of us pull the express."

"Oh please," scoffed the red engine, "I won't be taken off it until Gordon gets mended."

The engines didn't like the sound of this, but they would soon get a chance of luck.

Two weeks after James was tasked on pulling the Wild Nor' Wester. A strange engine came out of the works, steaming hissing from its pistons. Sir Handel looked over to the engine with curiosity in his eyes. Skarloey came puffing up next to him. "What are you looking at Sir Handel?" he asked.

"I don't know, the birds?" replied Sir Handel sarcastically, and returned to looking at the engine who seemed to be dozing in the sun. "I've never engine like that," he said.

"Neither have I," agreed Skarloey, "the North Westerners might know, but it'll not be likely..."

Then a powerful blow of the engine's whistle was heard. The two little engines winced from the deepening noise, the engine began to move and head straight to the mainline. Both engines just looked at each other in awe.

*

A little while later, James was puffing pompously down the line with his express train. He had to stop at Edward's station since the red engine couldn't take the train up the hill by himself anymore with the increase of coaches.

Edward the blue engine smiled as James came to a gentle stop at the platform. "You have made the right choice with stopping here," said Edward.

"Yeah," mumbled James, "driver doesn't like it when I pull a twelve-long train by myself up hills. He says I'm a poor climber."

"Well, you are the one that I usually need to bank up the hill," mused Edward, the red engine only replied with a scowl.

Then they heard a low sounded whistle. A very unfamiliar sound it was too which made the engines' brows raise.

"Never heard that whistle before," said Edward.

"Neither have I," agreed James. Then coming around the bend, the sound of powerful puffing could be heard even louder and steam bellowing into the sky, a peculiar looking engine appeared. Edward and James couldn't see anymore because the engine had raced past them and disappeared as quickly as it arrived. The two engines were surprised.

"Well," smiled Edward, "that was unexpected."

James only looked back down the line suspiciously. "Yes, it certainly is," he said.

*

James returned to the big station later that day, Duck was at his own platform with his own coaches. "Hello James!" he called, "pardon my intrusion but you seem... concerned about something?"

"I'm more confused than anything," replied James, as he eased into the station, "did you see that weird looking engine today?"

"Oh! You mean that red streamlined engine?"

"Yes... that's the one."

"She's currently at the coaling plant right now, refuelling I think," continued Duck. James said no more and came to gentle stop. He then left his coaches at the platform for another engine to shunt them away. The red engine headed to the sheds, then he saw the engine once more, properly now.

Duck mentioned that the engine was female, and it kind of showed. She was streamlined, with a raspberry coat of paint with white and grey lining across her. Even part of her boiler showed a massive grey ling going along at the bottom. Her tender was an LMS Stannier but nothing said it belonged to the once grand railway, not even a BR crest or number was on her. Only a nameplate was at the front where her smokebox should be. The red streamlined engine noticed James almost instantly and next to her was Gordon the big engine.

"Hello James!" called Gordon as James came to a stop right next to the coaling plant. "This here, is Caitlin, she's an experimental engine."

"I've guessed correctly then," said James unsure of the engine before him.

Caitlin smiled warmly at the red engine. "So, you're James," she said, "I've heard about you a lot on the mainland."

"Everyone says that," replied James.

"I saw you at the station after I went past the hill with a blue engine," continued Caitlin, "I'm guessing you're taking the Wild Nor' Wester whilst Gordon is out of service."

"Yes, I am," said James.

"Well don't worry!" smiled Caitlin, "you can take a rest if you want, and I could take the express for a while!"

James' face went into complete shock, he wasn't expecting this to be so sudden, let alone from the new engine. "So... you want to pull the express, so I can lay in the sheds?" James asked.

Caitlin smiled. "It'll give you a rest," she said.

She meant this genuinely, but James being James, he took it the completely wrong way. "Are you suggesting that I'm an old, feeble engine and you take over for your modern features?!"

Gordon burst out laughing, whilst James seethed. Caitlin seemed taken aback. "Oh! I'm sorry if I offended you," she said quickly, "I only-"

"If you want to take the express from me! Then don't expect it anytime soon," wheeshed James, ignoring whatever Caitlin was saying. He stormed off, leaving behind a shocked Caitlin and a bemused Gordon.

"Don't worry my dear," called Gordon, "James is quite... sensitive when it comes to pulling my express."

"I see," said Caitlin, even though she mostly couldn't.

*

Caitlin stayed at the big station for the next few days, she was put in a siding for enthusiasts to go and take their pictures of her. The other engines knew she was bored from the very moment they saw her in the siding on the first day. That night though, Caitlin spent the night at the sheds. The only engines there was James, Gordon and the Scottish twins. Henry and Bear were spending the night at Vicarstown and Duck and Oliver were at the sheds on the Little Western.

The engines were all keen to introduce themselves and Caitlin was willing to answer any questions they had.

"Will yae be workin' on our railway?" asked Donald.

"Sorry boys," chuckled Caitlin, "but I'm actually apart of the British American Trust."

"Och, what's that?" quizzed Douglas curiously.

"It's a sort of preservation program where American engines are preserved on British rails," explained Caitlin, "it doesn't matter whether you were built in America or Britain, as long as you're related to America or Britain. Then that's okay with us!"

"So.. you're American then?" asked James.

"Och! Did nae sound like a pesky yank!" said Douglas.

"Aye, yae sound British tae us," agreed Donald, "yae also did nae have the look of a yank too."

Caitlin laughed. "That's because I was built in Britain," she smiled, "I'm based off of an Baltimore and Ohio Railroad P-7a class."

"So, what are yae doing here then instead of being somewhere in the wild deserts?"

"There aren't any deserts in those states of America I'm afraid Douglas," chuckled Caitlin, "but I was built in Britain as an experiment so to test whether American built engines could be suited for British rails. That's why I don't have the accent if you're wondering."

"So, what will you be doing if you're not working here?" asked Gordon.

"Do you know the island Sydane?"

"Och, tha' wee island near Norwich," said Donald.

"Well, I'm taking fast passenger trains to the island and back here to Sodor," explained Caitlin, "it'll at least take me an entire day to get there and I'll return next day."

"Laud sakes," said Douglas in admiration, "ya would need tae take plenty coal and water if yae going to get there."

"I'll have a stop halfway there, so don't worry about me," chuckled Caitlin, "my company is placing coal and water stands for the station I'll stop for a proper break."

"Sounds efficient," complimented Gordon.

"They really are, they plan it really well and two more engines are helping run the service too," grinned Caitlin.

"Two more?!" exclaimed James.

"Indeed," said Caitlin, "one of them is in the works right now, he's in the final stages of completion and will run his train from Sodor to Thesang."

"Ahhh, Thesang," grinned Gordon, "such a lovely place."

"Aye, apparently it's supposed tae be tha most beautiful country within the United Kingdom," added Donald, "two brothers of ours work there tae and that's because of Gordon here."

Gordon scoffed bashfully. "Did what I could," he said.

James snorted. "What about the third?" he asked.

"Don't know," replied Caitlin, "apparently he's a steam engine too and will run the trains from Thesang to Sydane."

"So, what will you do in the meantime before the services start?" asked Gordon.

"I'm hoping to get back into the frame with passenger work," Caitlin replied, "hopefully I'll get a fast train so I can-"

"Like I said," James interrupted harshly, "you won't be taking my express whilst I'm in hold of it."

Gordon glared coldly at the red engine. Caitlin seemed a little perplex, but Donald had an idea and winked at Douglas cheekily.

"Y'know Jeames," started Donald, "I'd think yae jealous of Caitlin here."

James looked over to Donald. "Me? Jealous?"

"Aye," said Donald, "with yae acting all clingy to the train when any of us mention pulling a fast train."

"Och, Donal' is right there," Douglas said, catching on to his brother's teasing, "yae think Caitlin is a danger with taking the express away from yae."

James let off the remaining steam he had in his pistons crossly. "I'm not threatened by a streamlined American experiment!" he protested.

"Och, but yae are," smirked Donald teasingly, "she's much faster and once the Fat Controller realises this, yae be off the train before yae can sae, Surr Topham Hatt!"

Both twins laughed in unison, Gordon followed with them. Caitlin only smiled, she only looked over to James who was seething. He then went to sleep that night, with red patches across his cheeks.

*

The next morning, the sun had gone, and thick, grey clouds covered the sky. The other engines didn't mind this type of weather, only when it's raining. James on the other buffer, wasn't thinking about the dull weather, he was too busy thinking about what Donald and Douglas had said to him last night. "Caitlin being a threat to me," he scoffed as the red engine finished filling up with coal and water. "I'll show them who's a threat, that even the Fat Controller would consider me to pull the express instead of Gordon or those silly experimentals!"

Of course, these ideas that sprang from James' boiler were flawed and logically didn't make much sense. But the red engine was too cross from last night to think properly. He came into the big station and buffered up to the coaches. Duck was at the back, ready to help James get the train to speed. James gave Duck a peep of his whistle.

"Don't need any help today Duck!" he called, "I'm fine on my own!"

Duck was a little surprised by this. "Are you sure James?" he called back.

"Yes, I am!" came the reply.

Duck sighed and began to reverse a little so he can go over the points. "Suit yourself."

When the guard blew his whistle and waved his green flag, James began to heave the train out of the station. His wheels slipped a couple of times and got the train up to speed slower than usual, but he managed to get the express out of the station and over the junction towards the countryside. Duck could only watch on the middle track; he knew that James was going to get into trouble.

James rattled down the mainline, going as fast as the speed limit could make him get to. His driver kept checking him. "Steady James!" he called.

"And why should I Christian?" he called, "this is the express! It's should have the engines be tested for their limits!"

The driver sighed and sat down on his chair, as James tried his best to make himself go as fast as Gordon. Edward was at his station; he was scheduled to help James get the train up Gordon's Hill again and was sat in the banker's siding. Suddenly, James came rattling through the station, not even slowing down or blowing the whistle for a banker. He all but, rushed past Edward and carried on towards the hill.

"James!" cried Edward, but the red engine was too far away to hear him as the brake coach disappeared from site. Edward only groaned; he knew where this was heading.

James snorted up the hill, his wheels beating along the rails. His driver kept on checking him. "Your straining yourself James!" he called, slow down and head back for Edward to bank us!"

James only growled a response, he was already charging up the hill, he wasn't giving up just so he could get a banker. He wanted to prove that he was better than either Gordon or Caitlin. But he never made it up the hill. For when he was halfway up, there was splintering crack and the sound of metal being torn. James gave a yelp with pain and immediately began to slow the train down to a stop on the hill. His driver quickly looked out the cab and figured out what had happened in an instant. He climbed out of the cab and went to inspect the damage.

James' left coupling rod had snapped and had torn its way through the red engine's footplate and splasher. It was almost as identical too Edward's accident back in 1965. The driver groaned crossly. "I did warn you!" he exclaimed to James, "I told you all this work would strain yourself, and now look! You've wrecked yourself!"

James only huffed. The fireman had to go back down the line and phone for help. Edward soon came up the line and buffered up behind the express, and with James still groaning at the front of the train, the blue engine began to take the train back down the hill and back to his station. They arrived and stopped at the platform.

The passengers all swarmed out angrily, telling all the staff what a bad railway it was. The crews had to quickly make a dash to where Edward stood. "I don't think Edward would be able to take the train," said the blue engine's driver, "he doesn't have the same power James has."

James' crew nodded. "What about Boco?" asked the driver.

"I'm afraid he won't be back here in half an hour," sighed Edward's driver.

"Then who's going to pull it then?" asked James' fireman.

Then the stationmaster appeared from the angry mob of passengers. "There's an engine coming the other way light engine," he said, "the signalman at Maron has stated that the engine was only going to stay at Tidmouth for the rest of the day and he would be happy to take the train!"

"That's a relief," sighed Edward's driver, "now we'd better shunt James out of the way."

It was only a few more minutes later, Edward had just shunted James into a siding in the yards. Both engines then heard a shrill whistle, and from within the distance and blue streamlined engine came in view. Edward narrowed his eyes as the engine came closer and at last the engine came into the yards and to a halt. He looked similar to Caitlin, with a bright blue coat of paint like Edward's, and he has yellow lining with a white streak going across his boiler and his tender, which seemed to be an LNER corridor tender. The engine smiled at Edward and James.

"Hello there!" he said in a thick accent that seemed to be from Wales. "My names Connor, I'm here to take the Wild Nor' Wester."

"Oh, it's the train at the platform," said Edward, his eyes darting towards the coaches with no engine.

"Ahhh, I see," replied Connor, "can I use your turntable? If you have one that is."

"Of course," Edward smiled, "it's behind our sheds."

"Thank you very much!" said Connor brightly, "whilst I'll do that, could you help me take the train up the hill please? I won't be able to get the train up to speed with here."

"Oh of course!" responded Edward quickly, even though he was quite surprised about the blue streamlined engine asking him that. Whilst Connor was getting himself onto the turntable, Edward looked back at James teasingly. "You hear that James," he mused, "this engine knows his limits."

"Shut up," fumed James. The blue engine chortled to himself though as he went to buffer up behind the express.

*

It was a few hours later and James' crew had managed to detach James' broken coupling rods and had left on Bear's return train to Tidmouth to explain the situation there. James was left all on his own, Edward and Boco said hello to him when they were in the yards, Boco even shunted the red engine into the sheds so he could keep dry encase it rained. James was glad he did, as it began to rain a few minutes later. When Henry and the Scottish twins first saw James, they could only laugh.

The red engine only sulked, as he went to sleep.

Suddenly, there was low, but loud whistle, and James' eyes shot open. His eyes darted around the yards and then looked ahead and found a red tender coming straight towards him. It buffered up to, and the shunter fastened a coupling.

"What is this?" demanded James.

"Wake up lazy wheels!" laughed Caitlin, "time to take you to the works!"

James sighed in relief, then as Caitlin began to pull the red engine out of the sheds, questions began to pop into James' smokebox. "Why are you taking me?" he asked curiously.

"Because there's no other engine available to take you silly," Caitlin replied, "and since me and Connor are now out of the works, you and Gordon can take our place at the works!"

"Gordon?"

"Hullo James!"

Something dropped within James' boiler and looked over to the branch line's station platform to see Gordon and a small brake van beside it. Caitlin was taking both him and Gordon to the works but that left one more question in his mind. "Who's going to do our work whilst we're away?"

"Connor apparently did such a good job on pulling the express yesterday, he'll be pulling it until Gordon gets back and I'll be doing full passenger work for you and Henry whilst he focuses on goods trains for the time being," explained Caitlin.

James sighed crossly as Caitlin shunted him in front of a smirking Gordon. The red engine knew was going to happen for the rest of the journey, and as Caitlin headed back onto the mainline and Gordon started his teasing, James felt like he was going to be in the works for a very annoyingly long time.


	7. Ep44: Connor & Caitlin

Connor and Caitlin were doing superbly well on the mainline. Gordon was being kept in the works longer than imagined, but the British and American Trust saw their engines running trains on the North Western mainline as a test of sorts. Both streamlined engines didn't mind, they enjoyed running along the line with the coaches running smoothly behind them. Passengers sang theirs praises to them, and the other engines were thankful for their help.

But it all had to end sometime, and Gordon returned a week before the Summer season was about to begin. Connor felt a little sadden by the fact that he wouldn't be pulling the express anymore but was still looking forward to pulling his own train from Sodor to Thesang.

One early evening, Toby the tram engine was heading into Tidmouth yards with a small stone train from the quarry at the branch line. He had shunted them in a siding and left to be refuelled for the return trip back to the junction. The fuelling depot was at the front of the sheds though, so Toby had to encounter the mainline engines, he only spotted a few engines though in the sheds. He then saw Oliver the western engine parked on the other track; he rang his bell to greet the engine. Oliver smiled back. "Hello Toby," he called, "never thought I would see you here at this time! What brings you here?"

"Oh, just a small stone train," replied Toby, "we'll head back with a small train of vans."

"That's nice to hear," smiled Oliver, both engines then looked over to the sheds, to see Gordon, Connor, Henry, Boco and Bear in the sheds. Caitlin was pulling the last passenger train of the day and wouldn't be back until later that night. Connor noticed Toby a few seconds later and was immediately fascinated by the tram engine.

"Hello there," he called, "you must be Toby, am I right?"

"Indeed, I am," replied Toby, "I've seen you before going past with the express whilst Gordon was away, Caitlin also told me about you."

"Ah, I guess she would've," chuckled Connor, "she's a lovely girl, like a sister to me. Both of us built in the same workshops and came out almost at the same time too!"

"I must ask though," said Toby, "you two are very unique engines, with your basis in America, this should've been on the front page!"

Toby then paused his eyebrow raised up with a curious question fluttering inside his funnel. "Which begs the question," he continues, "why haven't we ever heard of you before?"

Connor chuckled. "Well it's because we kept secretive, we weren't a success at all on British Railways and wasn't before the Duke of Norramby and other founding members of the British and American Trust decided purchase us."

"You could tell us your full story," suggested Gordon, "get to know more about you before you leave to start your work."

"Well..." pondered Connor, "as long as I don't bore you."

"Nonsense," scoffed Henry, "we'd love to hear about your story! Better than Duck talking about the Great Western technical thinking."

"Yes Henry, I would like to hear more insults please," replied Oliver, who was slightly offended by the green engine's rude remark.

Connor only smiled, but he began his tale all the same with his confidence brewing within.

*

Connor was built in Swindon works in the spring of 1960. Caitlin came out of Swindon a couple of months later in the winter of 1961. Both were experiments to an American design, with a few British modifications to their original drawings of course. Connor was based off an NYC J-3a Hudson and Caitlin was based off a BO P-7a. Both engines had a similar streamlined appearance, and both were actually quite efficient whilst running on BR. They ran small stopping services for a while and did their paces in the yards of Swindon too. The railway board decided to keep them secret and not overly popularise the two engines since they did still have some teething troubles but other all, could handle passenger work without fuse. It wasn't until at the end of winter and the beginning of spring, almost a year when Connor came out of the works, both engines were ordered to go into some sidings and wait for some special visitors.

The two streamlined engines were confused. "Who are the visitors?" Caitlin asked her driver as their crews were cleaning her black paint.

"Wait and see," chuckled the driver. They did, and it wasn't long before the visitors arrived to see Connor and Caitlin gleaming and beaming in the sunlight.

"So, these are the engines?" asked one, looking curiously at them, "intriguing I will say that."

Another one of visitors came up the two engines. "We are inspectors from the railway board of British Railways," he announced to the engines, "we are to your final testing stages."

"Final testing stages?" echoed Connor, "but I thought we already had them."

"Evidently not," replied the same inspector, "your final tests are for your main purpose, to run high speed trains."

"You mean... we will pull important, fast passenger services?"

"Well why do you have a streamlined look then?" asked the inspector at Caitlin. The engine only blushed wildly and look down at her skirt.

Connor seemed pleased. "So, who's going to pull the first train?" he asked eagerly.

"Caitlin will," replied the inspector, seeming a little displease with himself with saying the engines names since they bear no numbers. "She'll have a dynamometer carriage behind her for the trip."

Caitlin was very excited Connor was annoyed by this though. It was obvious that he wanted to go first, and sort of found it insulting that they chose Caitlin who was built six months after him, was going first.

"It's not fair!" he complained in the sheds that night, "I should be the one going first, not Caitlin!"

"Oh well," chuckled Caitlin, "once I've done it, you can improve on what I did!"

Connor only sniffed a little and went to sleep, much to the other engine's relief.

Three days later, Caitlin was backing down at Swindon station with a full passenger train. She was excited and her driver to calm herself down when she buffered up to the coaches. "Don't over blow it girl," he grinned, "we don't want to give a bad impression."

"Yes George," replied Caitlin, but she still couldn't but bubble with excitement. Soon enough, the inspectors got into the dynamometer carriage at the front of the train, whilst passengers got inside the Mark I coaches. The signal showed green and the guard's whistle was heard at the back. Caitlin blew her loud whistle, and she began to heave out of the station, the train was longer than any other she had pulled before, but she managed to get the train up to speed.

And once they got into the countryside, Caitlin gave it her all. She thundered down the line whilst the coaches ran smoothly behind her. She felt the weight of them tugging behind her, but she didn't care and ran past stations and buildings with ease, but when she past the final station that was before her first stop, she felt something odd within the left side of her.

'Must've strained a little,' she thought, 'I'll tell driver when we get to the station.'

But they never got there, because as Caitlin rounded a bend, the strange feeling became stronger and stronger, Caitlin tried her best not to dwell on it, but as the bend stopped and a straight piece of track came in front of her, there was a mighty crack and a quick thud came next. Caitlin then began to bounce along the line.

"WOAH CAITLIN!!" cried her driver, and immediately applied her brakes. Caitlin obliged almost instantly, and the train came to a rough and grinding stop.

"Ouch!" exclaimed Caitlin, "that hurt!"

Her crew then got out and examined her whilst the guard from the end of the train went to the nearest signal box. Her driver then came to her front with bad news. "Your left spring broke Caitlin," he explained, "must've worn out whilst you were going at these speeds."

"But... but..." stammered Caitlin, "I thought everything was checked from the past few days!"

"Clearly something was faulty," replied the driver, grumbling to himself. "Never mind, I'm sure another engine will come and take us to the next station."

He was right. Soon, a BR standard came up from behind Caitlin's train and with a mighty shove, began to push her and the train the rest of the way to the station. By the time they there, Caitlin would've left a few minutes ago. Caitlin was more annoyed than ever when the train was moved to another platform since there was no other way for her to be moved out of the way. By the time the standard moved the coaches to the other platform and went around it to the other end, the train was half an hour late. The standard only looked at Caitlin with a look of disapproval.

"Blooming yanks," he muttered under his breath and snorted out of the station, leaving Caitlin offended and ashamed.

An old shunting engine came from the yards and took Caitlin carefully into a siding near the mainline. Caitlin's rough riding had unfortunately damaged some of the track along the mainline, making delays inevitable for engines who had to go along it, since they could only use the down track. This annoyed engine greatly and Caitlin felt very embarrassed as engines that had come the same way as she grumbled past her.

Then, Caitlin saw Connor puff into the yards. "What are you doing here?" she asked. Connor was supposed to be back at Swindon, readying for his final test. Her friend smiled with mix of warmth and pity.

"I had to pick up this coach from your train from the last station," he replied, Caitlin looked back and gasped. It was the dynamometer coach. Then the inspectors came out all with different looks on their faces.

The inspector who had talked to Caitlin a few days ago came up to her, he looked far from happy. "We made a quick investigation with what happened to you with the drawings that were given to us before the run," he started, "the reason why your spring cracked was because of many faults with your undercarriage, bad structure for it to hold and the faster you went, the more likely it would've cracked."

Caitlin didn't entirely understand what he fully meant by that. But she knew that latter reason was because of her going too fast. The inspector continued. "But with these faults, cause more faults. From the state of the track from what we've received before leaving with... Connor over there we heard it is in a worse shape that any usual engine whose spring breaks whilst on the move. You've also got no front coupling, meaning delays on trains are bigger than usual."

Caitlin felt ashamed. "What does this mean sir?" she asked sadly.

"It means that you are a failed engine," replied the inspector, "all of us within the dynamometer coach have agree that making more of your somewhat class is unnecessary, your future will be judged on whether you'll be suited to run passenger services like any LMS Ivatt or GWR Bulldog."

Caitlin felt distraught, Connor couldn't believe it too. But he said nothing and took Caitlin and the dynamometer coach back to Swindon as smoothly and carefully as he could.

Caitlin was put on a siding and was told to be left there until further notice. Connor puffed up so both engines could see each other.

"I'm terribly sorry Caitlin," he said, Caitlin didn't respond, "even though you won't be working on the trains we were built for, I swear that you will be repaired and back in working order in no time!"

"But I still feel like I let everyone down," replied Caitlin sadly, "I won't be pulling fast trains again and it felt so wonderful rushing down the line with the wind against your funnel."

Connor sighed and only said goodnight to her and left for the shed. He came to the murmurs of other engines who had also came for a rest.

"Not so perfect are ye now?" called one.

"Not fair whatsoever," grumbled a tank engine, "I've got to repair the line all night tonight and it's because of those yank engines!"

"But we aren't American engines!" scowled Connor crossly, "we were built in the same works as you and we have the same accent too!"

The grumbling tank engine only scoffed. "Just you wait yank," he called, as he left to get the maintenance train, "you'll be just like her and then we'll have to clean your mess up!"

"A sort of repayment for our past events with you lot!" joked the other engine from before and the other remaining engine laughed with him. Connor only wheeshed steam at them, but then he began to feel nervous.

Both he and Caitlin knew they weren't based on the same class, but what if the same thing happens to him? Connor began to get more and more nervous when thinking about, but then he thought to himself, he wasn't going to be like Caitlin, even if he does get a cracked spring, he will bring the train. He went to sleep, as confident as ever.

*

It was soon Connor's turn for his final test. It the exact same train and destination as Caitlin's and Connor felt very proud as he puffed gently into the dynamometer coach.

"Alright," he muttered to himself, "I won't have the same incident as Caitlin, I'll show I'm worthy of being the future of these rails, I might even beat that Mallard engine's record!"

Connor's confidence was growing over him, too much unfortunately. So when it was time leave, Connor started up so quickly, even his driver was concerned. "He could be straining himself for all we know!" he said to the fireman, as Connor over the points and onto the mainline, quicker and louder than Caitlin had, who could only watch from her siding nearby.

Connor was doing well. He had gotten to the first stop on the line unlike Caitlin and even got their early. The streamlined engine was under way with the train again, he was going as fast as possible, trying to prove he wouldn't be like Caitlin.

Then it happened.

Connor felt a strange feeling coming from not one, but both sides of him. 'I must'n give up now,' he thought confidently, and he began to go even faster, the strange feeling got worse and worse. Until, when he came to long curve, the right spring snapped, something in Connor's boiler sank, he began to bounce uncontrollably, then it happened again. His left spring snapped. Connor bounced twice as much as before and it wasn't long before his driver applied his brakes and Connor jumped the rails, scraping the ballast and sleepers, his front hitting the other track next to his own and he came to full standstill.

Connor was now derailed, with the dynamometer coach and the two coaches after it also derailed, now blocking both the up and down tracks on the mainline. Connor groaned as the pain of hitting the other's tracks rails stuck around, sitting uncomfortably on the ballast and sleepers wasn't much help either. And the fireman had to run to the nearest signal box as quickly as possible. A breakdown crane arrived at the scene, with another engine taking the unhurt coaches back to the station Connor flew past. It took a while, but by the afternoon, Connor was sitting on a flatbed, he had broken both his springs, meaning he was more unsafe to take back with him on the rails. A gruff tank engine took Connor home on the flatbed. He arrived back at Swindon a while later. Caitlin was in the siding right where Connor was being shunted, she had heard about Connor's accident and began to soothe his feelings.

The inspectors then came to the two engines a few hours later. Before they could say anything, Connor spoke first. "I've failed the test, haven't I?"

The same inspector, who had spoken to the engines before, nodded his head. "I'm afraid you have," he said, "both of you won't be pulling fast trains which you were promised."

"I'm guessing we'd be pulling slow passenger trains like GWR Bulldogs then," said Caitlin.

"That won't be the case," sighed the inspector.

Connor and Caitlin stared at the inspectors in disbelief. "Excuse me sir?" Caitlin said.

"We figured that you both will be unsustainable for pulling those type of trains," he stated, "and too cost effective for them as well."

Connor had no words to describe what he was feeling in that moment. "B-But-But," stammered Caitlin.

"There are no but's in this matter," exclaimed the inspector, "the decision is final."

"What's going to happen to us?" asked Connor.

The inspector turned from Caitlin to the streamlined engine whose front was dented, and his entire body laid on a flatbed. "Isn't it obvious?" he replied, "you'll be remained in a siding and will be waiting there until we find a good enough time to take you to the scrappers."

Caitlin gasped, as Connor's pupils became dots within his eyes. "We are... we will be scrapped?"

"That is correct," replied the inspector, not looking liked he cared in the slightest. "Good day you two."

And the men walked off without thinking about the engine's fate one bit.

*

Connor and Caitlin were taken to another part of the western region and shunted into a siding without second thought. Both engines remained there, Caitlin at the back, facing the buffers, whilst Connor on a flatbed looking forwards. Both engines watched engines rush by them with trains of coaches or trucks. None of those engines bared to look at them, a few months after they put in the siding, some men came and put tarpaulins on them. Both couldn't see the outside world now and all they can do is sleep and stare into the darkness.

But what seemed like years, Connor and Caitlin then felt the tarpaulins being pulled off them. And there, standing in front of them was a man in a well-dressed suit. He seemed formal and must've been important, right behind him were a few other men all in similar outfits to the other well-dressed man.

"Hullo there," smiled the well-dressed man to Connor, who looked very confused. "You must be Connor correct?"

"Well, um... yes sir," replied Connor, a little startled.

"That's good them," chortled the well-dressed, "thought I would never find you with how well hidden you were!"

The other men all chuckled as well Connor only gave an awkward chuckle too. "Excuse me sir," he said, "but who are you?"

The well-dressed man paused for a second, then smiled. "Oh yes, where are my manners? I, am the Duke of Norramby. Sir Richard Robert Norramby!"

Connor was a bit stunned by this, why was a man this high up here? Surely, he hadn't come to see him and Caitlin. But the next line answered that question almost on the spot. "And these men, as well as I, are your new owners!"

Connor was surprised. "New owners?" he quizzed.

"Indeed," chuckled the Duke.

"But why?"

"We have founded a new trust," explained the Duke, "the British and American Trust so to speak, where we find any engine who's both related to the USA and UK."

Connor was a little stunned at this. "So, me and Caitlin won't be scrapped?" he asked.

"Not in the slightest," smiled the Duke, "you're special, unique and it would be a shame for us to let you and Caitlin be scrapped after some faults that seem easy enough to fix!"

Whilst the Duke was explaining the details to Connor, the streamlined engine couldn't help but smile. He and Caitlin were now safe, and they would be running again.

*

Toby smiled as Connor ended his story. "That was, indeed, interesting!" he grinned.

"Well... thank you," Connor replied.

"Very interesting indeed," agreed Gordon, "I hope Caitlin was glad to be safe as well, and how long were you in there anyways?"

"Oh, we in that siding for about five years roughly, the Duke of Norramby only just got us once he heard about us from a friend and took us to Sydane where we were restored, we then came here for the final stage of our restoration and to be tested here as well, and as you can see, it's been a success!"

"Oh, it certainly has!" chuckled Boco, "you two have been wonderful with helping us and we all hope you do well with your trains to the other islands."

Connor grinned. "Thank you very much," he said, "you all have been too kind to me and Caitlin."

"Well we aren't like James," mused Oliver and Henry and Gordon laughed.

Toby smiled and once he was refilled, he rang his bell goodbye and left the engines for his return trip to Ffarquahar. He had a good story to tell the others tonight.

*

A few weeks later, James return and Connor and Caitlin were soon happily speeding along their routes to the different islands next to the United Kingdom. Both engines stay at Vicarstown for the night and head next day and would not return until tomorrow, but the engines didn't mind, they manage to talk to them at the station or yards when they're there. James does not feel like they're a threat now and all three are now good friends.

Connor and Caitlin are very please, about having people they can trust to run them now and love their new friends who make them feel like they actually belong on their rails.


	8. Ep45: Second Time Around

**A/N: Two stories in under a day, jeez, I wasn't expecting that either. I really need to write more stories about the Skarloey Railway, Duke has to rely on fan content nowadays and it's a real shame, he's such an interesting character and I have had such a fun time writing him here and his interactions to the other engines. Also, forgot to mention in the previous story, Thesang is an island I created on my own, and Sydane is an island created by a friend. Hope you enjoy!**

**_1970_**

Duke the lost engine had finally been restored.

Last year he was found by Wilbert Awdry and a few other men and was immediately sent to the Skarloey Railway, where he would spend the next part of his life.

He also met his new duke, Sir Richard Robert Norramby, who had recently become twenty-eight. 'He is young,' thought Duke, 'but he's a lovely chap.'

Sir Handel and Peter Sam were pleased to see Duke once again, and when he was out of the works and doing his paces back and forth. The two engines chanted. "Looks like you're getting into shape Grandpuff!"

"Getting into shape?" snorted Duke, "I was completely fine before! Now be off with you! Young fools!"

Sir Handel and Peter Sam only sniggered to each other and puffed away.

Duke was soon at the sheds with the other engines after his paces were done. He soon met Skarloey and Rheneas, who he had heard so much about, and all three began talking to each other.

"So, have the young scallywags been trouble for you?" asked Duke.

Skarloey chuckled. "Peter Sam was alright, it was Sir Handel that we had much trouble to keep in order!"

"Ahhh, Falcon was a funny one," smiled Duke, "what did he do?"

"Well..." started Skarloey, who looked hesitantly at Rheneas who only grinned at the little old engine.

Duke sighed. "He was that bad then?" he said, "then it looks like I have to keep him in order then!"

"He was much better now!" said Skarloey quickly, but it was no good. Duke had already puffed into the shed. The two old engines only looked at each other.

Tourist trains were getting more popular on the Skarloey Railway. It brought a lot of income to the railway and made the engines all the merrier to pull them. April had arrived, and the desolate trees and fields were coming back to life with leaves, flowers, and animals. This also meant tourists too when the holidays came to the railway. Duke had been dozing in the sun outside the sheds and hadn't had a run up the line yet. Passengers flocked to the railway, keen to get a look at the engine who was once lost.

The Thin Controller was a little anxious, Duke still hadn't had a proper run up the line, and passengers were wanting to ride behind the lost engine. At first, the Thin Controller refused to have Duke run, but when the traffic increased, and the engines began to feel worn out, the Thin Controller had to make the tough decision for Duke to pull the tourist trains.

"You were going to pull them earlier," he told Duke, "we were just hoping for you to rest before we tested you and let you pull these trains. But the traffic on the line is increasing more than we hoped. Are you sure you can manage the trains without a proper test run?"

Duke smiled confidently. "We don't want to disappoint the passengers?" he said, "I might as well give it go."

They lit his fire, and when Duke was in full steam, they moved the lost engine towards the station. Passengers swarmed the station so to get a good look at Duke. Duke felt a little flattered by the attention he got. He then looked back and smiled as he saw the familiar Mid-Sodor coaches which had also been restored just for Duke.

He was glad they did that for him. "They do know how to treat an engine around these parts," he smiled, as passengers scrambled into the coaches and the old engine pulled out of the station with a huff.

Duke puffed up the line, looking at all sorts of areas along the line. He found them quite interesting. "This is a lovely line," he said to himself.

"There's no other place like this on Sodor," agreed Duke's driver, as the engine chuffed along the line with his coaches singing behind him.

They soon reached Cros-ny-Cuirn, Duke could have a rest here, since Sir Handel was bringing a goods train. Duke knew all too well what Sir Handel liked and what he didn't like. His predictions were correct, as he saw Sir Handel grumbling into the station with a train that came from the nearby farms. He came to a stop on the other track right next to Duke's train.

"Feeling alright there, Falcon?" he asked.

"What do you think Grandpuff?" snorted Sir Handel, "pulling dirty trucks isn't my thing and you should know it! It's beneath me!"

"We all have to accept change someday Sir Handel," replied Duke, "from what I can see, you haven't changed much from the two decades you've been here."

Sir Handel felt insulted. "I have changed!" he protested, "I've got a new name, new livery and even new pairs of wheels!"

"You're still arrogant enough to dislike pulling trucks," Duke sighed, "back before you and Stuart came to the railway, I had to pull mix-trains."

"You told us that before Grandpuff," scowled Sir Handel, "besides, the Mid-Sodor was just getting started before it expanded almost across the north of Sodor itself! Don't start talking about how things were back on the Mid-Sodor, this is the Skarloey Railway, and other engines like Peter Sam or Rheneas can do this instead of me."

Duke's steam temperature shot up. It shot up too high for Duke to cope with. But nobody noticed to the slight damage Duke had accidentally caused himself. The guard on Duke's train blew his whistle, and Duke's driver made his engine pull the train out of the station with ease.

The old engine puffed crossly up the line. "He should've been as mature as he was back on the Mid-Sodor," he said to himself crossly. Duke soon forgot to be angry with Sir Handel, as he snorted up the hill.

"I can manage, I can manage," he puffed willingly. He still felt a little odd, but still struggled up the hill. Soon enough, Duke snorted over to the top. "I did it! I did it!" he wheezed.

The coaches sang behind him. "You've done well! You've done well!"

Duke managed to get to the next station, but his driver found something wrong and examined him all over. "Are you alright Duke?" he asked.

"Never better," replied Duke, he was determined to get the train all the way around the lake and back to the work's station.

But as he set, Duke began to feel a little ill. He felt it as he went through a turn, and as he came into the final station before the lake, he felt like he couldn't go no further. His driver inspected him a final time and eventually found the problem.

"A tube must've been damaged," he informed Duke, "I'm afraid you won't be pulling this train anymore if you want it to get more tubes damaged."

Duke sighed; he was hoping for a successful first run. But he knew faults were to occur in restoring an engine. The guard phoned for help, and Peter Sam came to Duke's aid. "I was hoping to head back to the work's station light engine," he joked as he back down onto the old engine, "looks like that won't happen!"

Duke sighed. "Thank you, Stuart," he said, as Peter Sam headed towards the lakeside loop.

"This reminds me of that time me and Sir Handel had to rescue you on the Mid-Sodor!" stated Peter Sam. Duke smiled as Peter Sam began to remember the past events on their old railway.

Peter Sam shunted Duke into the works. The Thin Controller was waiting there, he sighed as he watched Duke be examined once more. "I'm sorry Duke," he said, "we should've tested you beforehand, you're a delicate engine, and we shouldn't have made you pull trains straigh off the bat."

"Don't worry sir," replied Duke, "it's partly my fault anyways, I should've been more careful."

Whilst Duke was being repaired, Sir Handel took his trains. He enjoyed it immensely and he made sure the other engines knew it too. Soon though, Duke was back up and running again. Even though Sir Handel was glad Duke was alright, he still felt disappointed about not pulling the tourist trains.

"The passengers will miss me," he said dramatically in the sheds, the night before Duke would have his proper test. "But, it's a sacrifice I will make for dear old Grandpuff."

The other engines rolled their eyes, whilst Skarloey and Rheneas just looked at each other.

It was morning when Mr Hughes, the man who made sure the railway was being maintained, came for Duke's tests. The old engine did his paces at the sheds and soon, Mr Hughes said that Duke could have a run along the line.

Duke buffered up to a brake van called Cora, who would have Mr Hughes ride in so to check if Duke was able to run properly, and when the time was right, the old engine set off up the line again.

At first, Duke was a little nervous, but soon regained confidence, as he managed to head up the hill without any problems whatsoever. At last, they arrived at Rheneas station. Surprisingly, Duke found the engine whose name was the same as the station, crossly next to the platform.

"You should've gone to the loop by now," stated Duke, as he came to a halt behind Rheneas.

The gallant engine looked back. "Sir Handel should've arrived at this station a few minutes ago," he said, "but he hasn't, so the line isn't cleared yet."

Duke pondered for a second. "Why don't I go down the line to see what is happening?" he suggested, "I'm mainly going light engine along the line, so I can help where I'm needed."

Rheneas, both their crews and Mr Hughes all agreed, and once Rheneas was out of the way, Duke set off down the line. They found Sir Handel at Lakeside station, he had derailed on some points whilst exiting the station and was now laying uncomfortably on the ballast.

"Blooming engine didn't watch where he was going and went over the points which were against him," said his driver crossly. Mr Hughes made arrangements for the Permanent way crew to come and help put Sir Handel back onto the rails.

"But what about the passengers?" asked the guard, "they can't possibly be left here?"

"Oh, they won't," smiled Mr Hughes, "they have an engine who'll take them home."

They all looked over to Duke who looked a little stunned, but then gave a confident smile on his face. "I won't let the passengers down sir," he promised.

Mr Hughes laughed. "I don't think you will!"

Duke left Cora in a siding and buffering up from behind the train, he took the train back down the line, he soon met Rheneas and told him what happened. Rheneas allowed Duke to go first back down the line.

The old engine was going tender first, so he wasn't going as fast as he hoped we would be, but he nonetheless, he managed to arrive at the bottom station on time. The passengers were grateful and promised to return when Duke was running properly again.

Duke smiled and shunted the coaches into the sheds and went into the sheds. When Sir Handel returned the Thin Controller gave him some stern words.

"Your behaviour these few days hasn't been the best as I hoped it would," he said crossly, "you'll be taking goods work until I see an improvement with your behaviour."

"Yes sir," replied Sir Handel, who blushed and looked at his buffers.

That night, Sir Handel spoke to Duke. "I'm sorry for being so rude," he said.

"That's alright," chortled Duke, "just don't make it a habit out of its Falcon! Otherwise I'll have to play favouritism with Stuart!"

Sir Handel chuckled at Duke's joke. "How did you think you did today?" he asked.

"It was success," smiled Duke, "I guess second time around is what you really need."

Soon Duke was hard at work once again, he pulls the tourist trains most of the time and helps the other engines if one of them is sick.

Sometimes you can see at the sheds, dozing on a bright, sunny day, and his eyes would twinkle, as he knows, he has a new home and new part of life opening its doors to him.


	9. Ep46: Windmill of the Railway

**A/N: Been a while? But that's because I wanted to release something big for the 75th Anniversary. Hope you all like the new stories I've written for you all and thanks for waiting so long!**

There are many engines on the Island of Sodor. Big, small, fast, or slow, they all try to be useful. But there is one engine that most people know who runs on those rails. He hasn't been heard much for these years, after all, spending most of your time in the sixties away from your railway would really make you try and have a quiet life for a while. But this engine never stops having stories to tell. He is a tank engine, who has six small wheels, a short stumpy funnel, a short stumpy boiler, and a short stumpy dome.

But most people know him as Thomas the Tank Engine.

Thomas, as you know, runs a branch line with his two faithful coaches called Annie and Clarabel, who ride along happily with him. But Thomas had to leave after an incident in 1961 and didn't come back until 1967, right before The Flying Scotsman came to visit his brother Gordon. Things have changed since then, most notably a diesel railcar called Daisy who took over Thomas' work whilst he was away and remained ever since.

The other engines who work alongside Thomas were Percy and Toby. Even though the engines might not get along, all three wouldn't like to have any other engine running trains with each other.

Thomas loves his branch line very dearly and wouldn't like to be anywhere else. He has many places he likes to go by, but one of his favourites, is the windmill. The windmill resides on some strong earth surrounded by marshland, Thomas' branch line goes behind it on an embankment. Thomas loves going past it when either he's heading up towards Hackenbeck or heading back down the line to Elsbridge.

He always whistles over towards the windmill every time he goes past it and the workers at the windmill wave back at him when they see him.

Daisy didn't understand it. "It's looks so old," she said to Thomas on a cold morning's day, "I don't understand why you find it so important."

Thomas huffed crossly. "It is one of the many things which makes this line so distinguish from the other branch lines," he said defensively, "but you wouldn't know anyways, you haven't been here longer than I have."

"Oh really?" replied Daisy snootily, "then where were you for most of the 1960s?"

Thomas didn't reply, he only scowled at the diesel railcar and puffed away. Toby had watched everything. "The windmill is very special for us," he said, as he came up next to Daisy, "it's a mark of distinction, it's definitely a place where we prefer not to be destroyed and it helps people recognise our branch line. After all, most pictures of us are taking from a distance right. It has helped advertise the railway too, with being in posters, books and even in a documentary about our railway in 1959."

Daisy said nothing, she only rolled away, but she couldn't help but think about what Toby had said as she took her morning run. "I don't know why it's so liked," she said, "it's nothing special after all."

She eventually came to marshland. She glanced up at the windmill which was turning around and around. It was wooden and shabby, and Daisy thought it would collapse at any moment. "Sill thing," she murmured to herself, "if there was to be a storm, I wouldn't be surprise if it were destroyed into little pieces!"

"Don't be so silly," scoffed her driver, who had heard everything, "you know it's important to the railway."

Daisy sighed. That was the third time she had heard that, she was hoping another engine would agree about it once she gets to the junction. When she got there and asked James, she was met with a surprise.

"Even though it's quite strange having a windmill in a marshland," he said, "it has helped with advertise on the railway, it boosts tourists to that area as well so you do get a lot busier because of those parts."

Daisy was a little stunned and refused to talk to anyone about it for the rest of the day.

But a week later, everything seemed to change.

A storm came one night and struck the island, mainly the south-west part and the engines all had to beg that the doors wouldn't break away whilst they were in the sheds. Thomas, Percy and Toby were all inside their three-birth shed, listening intently to the storm that racketed outside.

"It does seem to be pretty bad out there," said Percy.

"Indeed, it does," replied Toby, "but we'll be safe in this shed I'm sure of it!"

Thomas huffed. "These sheds are strong," he said, "but I'm more concerned about the coach shed."

"I agree with you there," sighed Toby worriedly, "but there's nothing we can do at the moment, we can only help once the damage is cleared."

The three engines then went silent and after a while, finally managing to go to sleep.

The next morning, the storm had past, and the engines could now peak out from their sheds. They looked around and only sigh out with relief, nothing of value had been damaged. The water tower still stood up and the coach shed, whilst looking a little shaken, still looked fine from the storm.

Soon, the Fat Controller arrived, he was in a great hurry. "The storm has severely damaged Tidmouth Harbour," he declared, "many keys have been damage, cranes tipped over and a ship has also sunk at its own key."

All three engines looked at each other in shock, a ship had never sunk before at Tidmouth Harbour. But an answer still remained in Thomas' funnel. "Excuse me sir?" he said, "but shouldn't you tell the mainline engines? This doesn't really effect all too much."

"Well it does Thomas," replied the Fat Controller, "because there's so much damage, Percy shall be reallocated to Tidmouth to help repair the harbour, Duck will also help with the mess."

Percy was surprised but felt very pleased with himself. "Thank you, sir!" he peeped, and the Fat Controller left.

Thomas had to take his first passenger service to Knapford junction like he usually does. He sang to his coaches as he puffed down the line, he stopped at the small station of Hackenbeck and carried on towards Elsbridge where he had to go through the marshland.

But when he got there, he was in for a shock.

The windmill didn't stand on his harden earth no more, only a pile of wood and metal. Thomas just went by it in clear shock.

"H-How can that happen?" he asked.

"Would've been the wind and rain sadly," twittered Annie.

"Indeed," Clarabel agreed, "it was an old thing it was, but it's still such a shame. Such a shame!"

Thomas felt awful, as he could only puff past it and to Elsbridge, he arrived at the station and was a little startled by the owner of the windmill, Mr Salford waiting at the station, he looked miserable.

"Hello Thomas," he said glumly, "I guessed you've seen the windmill just earlier."

"I'm afraid so," replied Thomas, "is there any way you can fix it?"

"Thanks for to your railway who gave us money for the advertisement," said Mr Salford, "we can rebuild the windmill, but apparently, we can't be allowed to build it on the marshland."

Thomas was confused. "Why's that?" he asked.

"Earlier today," explained Mr Salford, "we had some men inspect the land and said we cannot put a new windmill on there since the land that once held the windmill has become unstable due to the storm and the collapse of the windmill made it worse with it's weight going on top of it. I'm afraid we're stuck with what to do now, and the dairy here will might have to put me and some of the workers on redundant payment then."

"But that won't help you," replied Thomas, "you'd better find a job quickly."

"That's all and well Thomas," replied Mr Salford, "but that'll be harder than it appears to be."

Thomas could only watch as Mr Salford left him and climbed into Annie. The tank engine felt even worse than before and continued to head down the line. Thomas soon met Henry at the junction and told him what had happened.

The green engine could only sympathise. "Sorry about that Thomas," he replied, "I'm guessing they can't rebuild it then?"

"Sadly not," the tank engine said, "but this will affect the dairy at Elsbridge as well with layoffs and many other problems will occur if they don't find a solution soon."

"They would have to hurry then," agreed Henry, "flour is what they need at the dairy sometimes and profits will decline otherwise."

Soon, Henry had to leave and set out of the station, Thomas took his return train back to the top station. The others had also heard about the unfortunate collapse of the windmill. Daisy felt a pang of sorrow for the windmill, as she purred past the remains, she felt like not just the marshland had lost something, but the branch line had lost something dear as well.

It was few days later when Daisy was humming along down the branch. Percy was still working at Tidmouth Harbour and Thomas and Toby were busier than ever with doing the small engine's work as well as their own. Daisy was taking the milk with her as well, she had done just that and shunted into a siding at Elsbridge where the men would take it to the dairy further up the line since a passenger service shouldn't stop there. Daisy had allowed Thomas to go through with a goods train as a friendly gesture.

But once Daisy was out of Elsbridge, she began to head the small gradient that went down to Toryreck. It was quite similar to Gordon's hill. It had a stone bridge that allowed road vehicles to go over the railway and had a bend at the bottom of the small slope. The track went through a cutting a white stone could be seen from either side. Daisy groaned though, a signal, which was in the middle of the gradient was showing red for her, meaning she had to stop her. She did so, a little annoyed though.

"It's must've been Thomas," said the driver.

"I knew I shouldn't allow that tank engine to go ahead of me," she grumbled, "now I'll be late!"

She waited for the signal to change, but as she did so, she looked around her surroundings, trees on the right side that towered over the white cutting, and a field that was on her left which was right in front of the road. Daisy stared at it for a while, it was bare. Nothing was used on it, there was never any sheep or cattle, no plants growing in it. It was just a layer of thick grass. The diesel railcar paused. "I wonder," she pondered.

Just then, the signal dropped to green, and Daisy set off once more, lost in thought.

Once she got to Knapford, Thomas was resting in a siding nearby. "Sorry," called Thomas apologetically, "a bloody truck gave itself a hot axle box, so we had to take it off at Toryreck."

"I see," said Daisy, who came to a stop at the station, "hey, y'know that a slope between Toryreck and Elsbridge?"

"The cutting with white stone, yes I do," replied Thomas.

"Well... I was just wondering, has anyone used that field?" she asked curiously.

Thomas pondered for a few seconds. "The last it was used was in 1955, when Percy was transferred here and Duck came to the railway," he replied, "it was only used for sheep, but it disconnected with the farmer's other fields, so when he expanded his land, he stopped using the field and it just became something for train spotters or a place to have a picnic."

"I see," Daisy said, an idea was slowly forming in her engine, "thank you Thomas."

Thomas smiled and puffed away to the harbour to collect his return train to Ffarquhar.

Daisy asked her driver to get a hold of the Fat Controller so she could speak with him. Her driver did and a few days later, the Fat Controller was standing on the platform at Knapford. Daisy was very pleased to see and explained his plan, even though the Fat Controller wasn't keen on getting into businesses that had problems that didn't involve his railway, he knew it was important for workers and civilians and agreed to Daisy's plan.

Another few days later, Thomas was taking his first passenger train of the day, but as he puffed down the slope towards Toryreck, he saw the red signal, he scowled at it as the blue tank engine came to a full stop at it. But as he was about to complain, he noticed something on the open field. He saw Mr Salford and a few men on it.

"Hello," he whistled, "what are you doing there?"

Mr Salford looked over at Thomas and beamed. "We just got a hold of this land," he called, "the dairy suggested that we have this land and rebuild a new windmill here!"

Thomas was stunned, he had never suspected this to happen. But the tank engine couldn't help but smile, as the signal shone green and puffed away.

Later that day, Thomas and Daisy met at the top station. The diesel railcar looked curiously at the tank engine who smiling at her. "What is it?" she said.

"You were the one who suggested that they have a new windmill built at the slope near Elsbridge," Thomas replied, "I just want to thank you for that."

Daisy blushed. "Well, we don't want any of our goods traffic to decrease," she said bashfully, "what would Percy say when he finds out there's less of those dirty trucks to take care of!"

The new windmill was built with white bricks, they put two other buildings on each side too, one for storage purposes and one for worker usage. It wasn't long before the windmill was up and running, whenever the Ffarquahar engines puffed by it now they will always give it a peep of their whistle, a rang of the bell, or a toot of the horn. What was even better, that the Fat Controller agreed to put the new windmill into the new brand of posters for the railway. Daisy enjoys it especially with the white paint glistening in the sunlight. The diesel railcar even considers it to be her favourite place on the line and doesn't consider old and shabby things to be useless anymore.

The old windmill's wooden remains have been left there in case anyone was wondering what had happened to it and laid in the marshland peacefully. Thomas stills misses its grand, tall feature, but he understands when old things go away, there's always something new just around the bend.


	10. Ep47: Cranky Bugs

**A/N: This is obviously a rewrite but I hope yall enjoy!**

A storm had just gone by on the island, and Tidmouth Docks was a tip. The quays had been damaged, cranes laid on the ground, buildings unstable and even a ship had sunken from some of the key's harden cement hitting it. The Fat Controller had ordered Percy and Duck to go and help repair the docks, both engines obliged and were now hard at work with shunting trucks into place where they were needed. They even helped in the big station's yards. Both Duck and Percy were finding work at the docks refreshing from their branch lines and felt a bit of nostalgia go into their smoke boxes remembering their time as station pilot.

But the sweet air would eventually turn sour and salty as a few days later, after Percy and Duck came to help, a new crane came to the docks and was temporarily sitting at one of the keys since one of the cranes needed to be repair after tipping over during the storm. He was a tall crane with dark green paint covering his frames.

Duck was looking forward to meeting him one morning as he brought some empty flatbeds. "Hello there," he whistled, "my name is-"

"Shove off you little bug," called the crane.

Duck was hurt. "Excuse me?"

"Do you want me to say it again?" quizzed the crane, turning around to look down on the Great Western engine. "Shove it."

"But you're supposed to load my flatbed!" exclaimed Duck.

"Do I?" laughed the crane, "well... if you leave those things there, then I can load them then."

"But how will you get to the third flatbed?" Duck asked.

"I can manage," scoffed the crane, "now leave me you little bug."

But Duck refused, this made the crane cross as he loaded the steel rails onto the Great Western engine's flatbeds. By the time it was done, Duck puffed away. The crane just watched him leave and shouted at him. "And don't come here thinking you'll get any favours you bug!"

Duck was very cross and when he saw Henry later that day, he told him about the new crane. Henry only chuckled. "I brought him here last night," he explained, "the workmen call him Cranky and I don't blame them, just take no notice of him and just do your work."

Duck took Henry's advice and told Percy about him later that night at the sheds. Percy was curious and took a supply of trucks to quay where Cranky was sitting. The small engine gave a peep hello, only to get a rude remark in return.

"Stop whistling you annoying little bug!"

"Annoying little bug!" echoed Percy offended, "I'm not a bug!"

"Really!" laughed Cranky, "from what I can see up here, someone could flatter you with ease! Not bugger off!"

Percy was indignant and when he saw Duck, explained his recent interaction with the crane. Duck sympathised. "He's such a rude crane," he agreed.

James had heard everything from the siding he was resting on and decided to interrupt the two tank engines. "He's been nice to me so far!" he called, "you two must be annoying him!"

"We?!" snapped Percy, "we are not annoying!"

"We haven't said anything to him but just greet him," added Duck. Then Bear came in beside James, he had heard everything.

"I'm sorry you two," he said as politely as possible, "but Cranky has been very polite to us. Perhaps you could give him space."

"Or maybe he just doesn't want little tank engines like them to be in his way!" joked James.

"James!" scolded Bear.

Duck and Percy only look at each other, they knew James had a point about one thing. Cranky was not too keen on tank engines. And it wasn't long before, Cranky began to play tricks on them too.

The next day, Percy was shunting some open wagons into a spot where Cranky could unload crates from the ships and put them into the trucks Percy was shunting. The small engine had just stopped when Cranky called down to him. "Oi! You little bug down there! You've gone too far I need you to move forwards now!"

Percy was cross. "Little bug, little bug," he muttered to himself, the small engine was too offended and angry to realise what Cranky was doing and before he knew, a crate landed on top of his smokebox. Cranky took this to his advantage.

"You silly little bug! If you can't control where you put your trucks you might as well leave! Now I'll be delayed!"

Percy was beyond furious.

Next was Duck, he needed Cranky to unload some pipes off a ship docking next to the crane. He did not want to see the crane though and so did Cranky. But the crane had another scheme within his frames. As Duck came up along the first track nearest Cranky, the crane shouted down at the Great Western engine. "You there, bug! Move to the third line, it'll be easier for me to load from over there!"

Duck didn't want to argue, so he obliged, this took time however and the Great Western engine seemed very annoyed by the time he came back along the third track. But as Cranky began to lower the pipes down, his pipes only reached to the second track right next to Duck. Cranky began to further escalate his plan.

"You stupid bug!" he yelled, "you know I can't reach there!"

Duck was cross. "You did that on purpose!" he shouted back, a full-fledged argument came between the engine and crane, and the dock manager had to order Duck to move quickly as possible back to where he once was and Cranky to load his flatbeds without fuse.

But the dock manager wasn't best please with delays and reported it to the Fat Controller, who the next morning came to greet the two engines who were about to start work. "Duck and Percy," he boomed, "I have heard about the delays you caused yesterday and I'm extremely disappointed with you. I'd like to ask what happened?"

"Beg pardon sir," replied Duck anxiously, "but we'd like to know that too."

"It's that new crane sir!" continued Percy, "he's being playing tricks with us and the one causing the delays!"

The Fat Controller pondered for a second. "Even though I will take your complaints into account, I don't have any proof of what the crane has done," he replied, "I'll have you two separated for the time being, Percy you'll stay as Tidmouth station's pilot for the day whilst Duck you'll remain here and shunt the trucks."

"But sir," protested Percy, "you know me and Duck work better together."

"I'm sorry Percy," said the Fat Controller, "but there's nothing I can really do, there will be a short investigation about the delays and I'll get to the bottom of this, right now please head to the station Percy."

And Percy begrudgingly did so. For the rest of the day, Percy shunted coaches for the mainline engines, whilst Duck worked at the harbour. The old crane was soon repaired and Cranky was sent to another part of the harbour for a temporary stay there too, an old goods shed stood beside him and two through lines were on the other side. Duck had help move him, he didn't like that at all and just ignored Cranky through the whole process. The crane was best pleased that Duck was still here at the docks, but he was glad he got rid of one of the 'bugs' as he would put it.

After Duck had moved Cranky into place, he set off towards the ship which had sank. It was being cut up on the spot since it was too much of the wreck to salvage. Duck was glad that the ship wasn't living like them engines, or the tugboat that was helping with the wreckage. "Hello Montague!" called Top Hat, as the Great Western engine came up to shunt the wagons of metal, ready to be taken to Cronk's Smelters.

"Morning," replied Duck, "how are things?"

"Well Montague the other tugs are going around the island helping where they can," replied Top Hat, "me and Warrior and a few of the Z-Stacks are the only ones repairing the damage."

"Well, I do hope you get back to your usual routines then," smiled Duck.

"Oh yes! How's that new crane getting on?" asked Top Hat, "from what I've heard from Ten Cents he needs to be more down to earth."

Duck sighed. "He's made the Fat Controller split Percy and I up over something he's done," the Great Western engine complained, "it's not fair."

Top Hat just raised an eyebrow. "Well don't expect any advice from me, I'm not a professional at this and besides, from what Captain Starr has told me, the remainder of the storm is going to coming, so you might be stuck in your sheds for a while."

Duck was a little surprised. "Remainder of the storm?"

"Indeed Montague," replied Top Hat snootily, "what was left of it within the Atlantic Ocean is coming to us, it won't be as strong and dangerous as the previous one though so there's nothing to worry about!"

"I see," said Duck, and with that, he began to shunt the loaded wagons away.

*

James and Bear were at the harbour, it was beginning to get dark, and the setting sun had only left a few red and orange spots in the sky. The two engines were chatting with each other, when Henry came in with a goods train. Then the dock manager came in towards the three of them.

"A storm is coming in," he called, "it's best if you take shelter here instead of heading to your sheds, there's a goods shed nearby, you may use it!"

James and Henry grumbled about it, but Bear obliged. "The winds are already picking up and the bridge which we use to exit the docks must be unsafe to use," he explained, as all three engines parked inside the goods shed. Cranky was right beside them, the three engines greeted him, Cranky only mumbled a "yeah, yeah" to them.

It was nightfall and the rain and wind were given Tidmouth another rough time. It wasn't as bad as the previous one, but still kept the engines' eyes open. "We're sure to be safe in this shed," assured Bear to Henry and James, but he was wrong.

A ship, which was delayed due to the storm, was trying to get to the docks, but it could not see which way to go. The ship finally found the docks though, but it was heading full on towards the sheds where Bear, James and Henry were. It didn't have time to react, and could only slow down for further impact, it crashed into docks, hit the engine shed.

"What the-" cried James, but before he knew the roof began to fall over, its roof then hit Cranky who was on the other side of the goods shed. The frames that held the roof up then went sideways, making the roof fall on top of the engines, and push Cranky over, who screamed until he hit the ground with a thud.

"Ouch!" came a muffled response from within the shed, "that hurt!"

"Oh, really Bear?" snapped another voice, "tell us something else that isn't obvious?"

"Oh, shut up James," came the third voice, "Cranky, could you live this rotten shed's roof off us please?"

"I can't!" wailed Cranky, "I've fallen!"

"What? Fallen from grace?"

"Very funny James," snapped Bear.

"He probably means he's fallen over," said Henry, "guess we're stuck here."

"I am not going to be stuck here for the rest of the night with a boat sticking it's ugly pointy thing towards me!" cried James.

"What Henry said earlier," said Bear, "shut up James!"

The storm eventually past and the Fat Controller came to the scene in his bright blue car. He inspected the damage and then came towards Cranky. "We need you to get these engines out of their... cage," he informed the crane, "but you'll obviously need to be put back up."

"Please sir!" cried Cranky, "I will help! Just put be back up right!"

"Duck and Percy will have to come and help you then," replied the Fat Controller.

"Who?" quizzed Cranky.

"I think you know who they are," said the Fat Controller with a stern face, "after all, you were the one who played tricks on them."

Cranky went pale as the Fat Controller pointed a finger at him. "That's right, I know what you did," he scolded, "and I will not tolerate cranes that disrupt my engine's work and put the blame on them! It is a shame too since you would be working here after the repairs and they're trying to help fix your new home!"

Cranky sighed and looked down to his frame, then to the ground. "I'm sorry sir," he said sadly, "I will behave much better I promise!"

"I will hope so too," agreed the Fat Controller, "but I think it's best you'd apologise to the... bugs first."

Cranky groaned, this man knew too much already. A few minutes later, after much persuasion by their crews and even Gordon, Duck and Percy arrived at the scene. Whilst the tugs helped move the ship out of the damaged quay, the two tank engines helped the crane to get back up right. Cranky was incredibly grateful and instantly helped with getting the roof off the three engines. Henry, James and Bear were relieved. "Thank you," smiled Bear, "what we've done without you?"

"Well I had to be rescued before I helped you!" called Cranky, "but I never thought it would've been done by a couple of b-b-"

"B-what?" asked Duck.

"Well I-umm... little engines! Yes, rescued by little tank engines!" Cranky replied, breathing a sigh of relief.

Duck smiled, but Percy was still insulted. "Little tank engines!" he cried, "My weight could crush a human's skeleton!"

He snorted away, whilst Duck puffed off to collect the other three engines and take them to the sheds. Cranky only rolled his eyes.

It wasn't long before Tidmouth Harbour was back repaired and back to normal. Cranky was moved the busiest part of the docks where he can help with loading and unloading bigger loads and put them on flatbeds or the ground.

Cranky is still cranky cause he is that sort of crane, but he never calls tank engines bugs again. After all, you might need them at some point in your life.


	11. Ep48: A Bothersome Diesel

**1971**

Bill and Ben are twins who work at the Sodor China Clay works. They usually take trucks full of China clay to the small fishing key side at the end of Edward's branch line, where they would sometimes shunt trucks of China clay or fishing vans where BoCo or Edward would take away. But when they are not playing tricks, they're hard at work. But the Sodor China Clay Company was rapidly expanding, and the work at pits was becoming more and more extreme. This was making the twins a little agitated.

One chilly morning in February, BoCo came into the clay pits to collect his trucks, usually Bill and Ben would take the trucks to the key side but were so busy that Edward and the big diesel had to collect the trucks at the pits, but BoCo wasn't use to this new arrangement and found it quite difficult for him to get down the line with his co-bo wheel configuration. When he got to the pits, he wasn't best please with what Bill and Ben were doing. Both twins were on two sidings with a train of wagons full of China clay, waiting to be sent off.

"No those trucks are mine!" cried Bill, "those are BoCo's!"

"Rubbish!" Ben snorted, "it's these trucks that BoCo need to take."

"No, it isn't."

"Yes, it is."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Stop bickering you two," interjected BoCo, "otherwise I won't be getting anything."

But just BoCo finished, Bill reversed roughly into the trucks behind him, a door opened, and clay spilled out. BoCo sighed and rolled his eyes. Ben just huffed. "Well done Bill," he said.

Their manager came to inspect the scene. "Bill and Ben," he said, "if you don't stop misbehaving, I'll make one of you work at the key side and the other work here."

The twins just looked down at their buffers in shame. "Yes sir," they replied.

"But sir," protested Bill, "we have been rushed off our wheels, we can't even take the trucks to Brendam because of how overworked we are here!"

"Yeah... what he said," added Ben pointlessly.

"I understand your feelings and both of you have been working hard during our expansion, what we need is another engine to help you two," he replied.

"Another engine?" gasped Ben.

"Indeed," said the manager, "I've got one on loan and he'll be helping us with taking trucks from the pits to the key sides. He's a diesel and I want you two to give him a warm welcome when he arrives tomorrow, and no tricks!"

Bill and Ben were a little startled by the news and when the manager left both engines gossiped to each other about what they had just heard. "A new diesel?" cried Bill.

"A new diesel will obviously take over our work," replied Ben, "I'm sure of it!"

"Rubbish," BoCo scoffed, "he's here on loan if you didn't hear and he's helping me and Edward with bringing the stone trucks for us, so we don't have to come down here. And probably head back to the other railway after the expansion of the clay pits stops, but if you two don't want to be 'replace', get back to work and don't cause trouble."

BoCo then hummed away, leaving both twins to pointlessly worry.

He arrived at Wellsworth station, he was a little late, but Edward understood that the big diesel had did his best to make up lost time. James the red engine was waiting in one of the sidings where he would pick up some of BoCo's trucks, his mood was unfortunately sour and had increased too with the big diesel delaying his train. "Thanks a lot, BoCo," James sneered, "if you were more late than it is, I would've missed my path."

"Sorry James," said BoCo defensively, "but it isn't my fault, I have to go up the line to the clay pits and it's difficult for me since my size."

"Pah!" snorted James, "you could've made more of an effort."

"I think he more likely did," Edward said, "otherwise he would be much later, and at the moment, you'd be more later with you sitting there sulking."

The red engine huffed, as BoCo moved over and James headed to pick them up. Whilst he was doing so, BoCo moved alongside Edward. "Good news for us," he informed the blue engine, "a new diesel is coming on loan to help with pulling the trucks to the key side, so we won't be going down the line towards the clay pits no more."

Edward sighed. "So, I've heard," he said, "driver told me a few hours ago in fact and from what he said, the diesel might not improve anything."

BoCo was puzzled. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"The diesel is a class 17," replied the blue engine.

"A class 17," murmured BoCo, "I agree with your driver there!"

"What's the matter with a class 17?" asked James, who had been eavesdropping the conversation.

"They are considered the worse design of diesel, even more than my class," answered BoCo, "their reliability is terrible, and they've slowly going out service ever since 1968."

"It's a shame really," Edward added, "it's just like you BoCo when you arrived."

"Well," said James, who had just shunted some of the clay trucks onto his train, "and they say diesels are reliable!"

BoCo rolled his eyes and the blue engine only sighed as James huffed away with his slow goods.

"I don't know what the clay pits manager was thinking" said BoCo, "the diesel is bound to cause more trouble than resolve them."

BoCo was right.

The new diesel arrived on Sodor the next day, he had made a stop at Vicarstown and was now travelling light engine towards Edward's station. But as he was on the final stretch, he came to an obstacle that he wasn't expecting.

"Oh my!" he exclaimed, "no one told me about this hill!"

"We should head back to a yard," called his driver, "you've running for quite some time now and we should cool down your engine!"

"Nonsense!" huffed the diesel, "I can manage! I can manage!"

But he didn't, and he came to a standstill halfway up Gordon's hill, with his engine spluttering and black smoke coming out of his exhausts. "Oh bother!"

BoCo was sent to the rescue, he buffered up to the diesel and took him the rest of the way. When they got there, an engineer inspected the diesel. "Your cooling system is experiencing problems!" he called to the diesel after a thorough inspection, "we can fix it here but I'm afraid you'll have to stay here for the rest of the day."

"Oh, bother again!" sighed the diesel. BoCo came up alongside the diesel.

"Seems like you're experiencing trouble already," he remarked.

"Sorry, my engine is bothersome as ever!" said the diesel, BoCo listen to his hard-British accent, it sounded familiar to Gordon's, but lighter and the diesel had a lisp.

"I can tell," stated the big diesel, "anyways, my name is BoCo."

"Ahh, BoCo! I'm guessing it's based off your co-bo wheel arrangement am I correct?" smiled the diesel.

"Indeed," BoCo said, he then stared curiously at the new diesel, "do you have a name?"

"Bless me not really!" cried the diesel, "diesels in England don't have names, only numbers!"

"Indeed, they do," sighed BoCo.

"But they do give me names," the diesel said, "some call us Paxman, but never liked the name myself since most people do call all my brothers Paxman. But my driver calls me Derek from time to time."

"Do you like being called Derek?" asked BoCo.

"Oh yes I do!" exclaimed the diesel, "it makes you feel-"

"Like you belong somewhere," BoCo finished.

"Exactly," smiled the diesel.

The diesel was shunted into the sheds after talking with BoCo. News went down the line about Derek. Douglas was telling his twin Donald at Brendom docks, the Scottish twins were helping along the line for a few days before going back to work on the mainline and both were finding the whole incident a huge joke.

"Reliable is he!" mused Donald, "och, cannae even get up Gordon's hill light engine!"

"Aye," laughed Douglas, "make sure yae tell those pesky twins, Bill and Been aboot this!"

Donald promised he would and headed to the clay pits tender first with a few empty wagons. When he got there, he found Bill resting at a water tower.

"How da yae do laddie?" called Donald as he came to a stop.

"Not good at all," grumbled Bill, "that new diesel was supposed to be here by now and he isn't!"

"Och, haven't yae even heard," smiled Donald, as he was uncoupled from his train and began to move around it so to fetch loaded wagons, "yon diesel broke down whilst heading up Gordon's hill! He's staying at Wellsworth for the night so he can be fixed!"

Bill was shocked. "The diesel broke down already?" he asked.

"Aye," replied Donald, then he had a mischievous idea. "And it's all to do with a wee toothache."

"Toothache," exclaimed Ben, who was shunting nearby, "I thought engines don't get toothache."

"And we don't even have separate teeth either," added Bill, "so how can he have toothache?"

"Aye, his class is a special kind," grinned Donald cheekily, "don't know how, but if they ever get an ache in their teeth, it's going to the works for them!"

The Scottish twin, then buffered up to his loaded clay trucks. "Good luck lads!" he called and with a blast of his whistle, set off back to the docks, leaving the China clay twins perplexed and puzzled.

"Why did Donald say good luck?" asked Bill.

"Because we'll need it," cried his twin, "a diesel with toothache sounds like the worse diesel ever!"

Bill and Ben couldn't help but think about the new diesel and his apparent toothache. It was at the end of the day that the manager came up to the twins. "A load of irrelevant stone is needed to be taken to the docks this evening," he explained, "you two will take the load to Brendam docks and spend the night there so you can bring some empties back in the morning, understood?"

"Yes sir!" replied the twins in unison.

The twins set of an hour later and arrived at the docks a while later, by then, darkness had covered the island and the moon shone brightly within the freezing air. Bill and Ben shunted the trucks into place where workmen would begin to unload and both twins scuttled away to the sheds. They were surprised to see Edward in the sheds. "Hello you two," he called.

"What are you doing here Edward?" asked Bill.

"I could ask you the same thing," chortled the blue engine, "but the sheds are full as Wellsworth with both Donald and Douglas here helping for this week and I didn't want the new diesel to feel threatened by those pair, so BoCo is staying with him. You know what Donald and Douglas are like."

"Yes, we do!" said Ben, "and know what that new diesel is like too!"

"Hmm? How so?"

"Donald says that new diesel is a special diesel because it has separate teeth like humans do and can get toothache which makes him break down!" replied Bill.

"Separate teeth? Toothache?" said Edward, a little perplexed.

"Yes!" cried Bill, "he's... he's..."

"Bothersome!" cried Ben.

"A bothersome diesel," added Bill firmly.

Edward looked from either side of him and laughed. "Who told you this?"

"...Donald."

"Oh! Donald is just pulling your wheels," chuckled Edward, "the diesel doesn't have separate teeth and get toothache. He has many mechanical faults to his class and is considered even more of a failure than BoCo's class. The poor engine is indeed bothersome, but with his engine!"

Bill and Ben felt foolish. "Do you know when the diesel is coming?" asked Ben.

"He'll be repaired by tomorrow and he's a keen worker, you have nothing to worry about," said Edward, "he's on loan anyways and when you've finished expanding the clay pits, he'll head back to the other railway and things will go back to normal."

Edward's wise words made the twins feel a little better and the next morning, Bill and Ben headed back to the clay pits with a small train of empty wagons. They worked hard all day and even made the clay pit's expansion go ahead of schedule. This made the manager incredibly pleased with them.

By the afternoon, the twins were resting in some sidings. Then they heard a toot of an unfamiliar horn.

"Oh no!" cried Bill, "it's the diesel."

And it was. The diesel came into the pits with a broad smile on his face. His blue paintwork represented the new era of British Railways and he gave the twins another honk of his horn. "Hello," he said, "My name is Derek, sorry for not coming yesterday, had troubles with my engine."

"Or teeth," mumbled Bill, and Ben giggled. Derek didn't hear them though, the manager arrived and order Derek to take the loaded trucks away to the docks. The diesel obliged and headed back up the line. Bill and Ben remained in the clay pits, shunting trucks of stone, China clay or tools to help workmen blast the cliffs so to make way for new stone open parts of the quarry. Both twins watched suspiciously as Derek came back and forth with empty wagons for the clay pits and take away loaded ones.

Eventually, when the twins decided to give up on him, he was being very friendly and was genuinely working. Both decided to play tricks on him tomorrow though. But they never get the chance.

That evening, Derek came back for his last load of the day, but he got a bit of a surprise. "That many trucks?" he exclaimed

"You okay with pulling that many trucks?" Bill asked.

"N-No!" replied Derek quickly, "I think I'll be able to manage this load, after all, don't want anyone to work later than they should!"

Derek then back down onto the trucks, he was nervous, he hadn't pulled this many trucks before, but he didn't want to let anyone down. He was coupled up to the train and started off back to the docks. "I'll see you both tomorrow!" called the diesel, "I will be staying at the docks so take care!"

The twin engines watched as Derek rumbled out of the clay pits. "I don't think he'll be able to pull that many trucks Bill," said Ben worriedly.

"I don't think so either Ben," Bill agreed. And it wasn't long before they found they were right.

Later, the manager came up to Bill and Ben with bad news. "The diesel has broken down at the drain, both of you must go and rescue him, hurry now!"

The twins then set off to the rescue. They found Derek sitting sadly on the line, he was going up the slope that exited the drain and his engine had gave way. His driver then came up to Bill and Ben's crew who were coupling the twins up to the back of the train. "Derek's engine gave away, should've seen it coming too, this train was much longer and heavier than the others."

"You think you can manage you two?" asked Bill's driver.

"Oh course sir!" peeped Ben willingly.

"We'd give it our very best!" added Bill.

Soon everything was ready, Bill and Ben peeped their whistles and with steam pumping through their cylinders and pistons, they began to push the train up the slope of the drain. It was hard at first, a train this heavy starting up a slope would've made one of the twins fail, but Bill and Ben did it together and got over the slope and pushed the diesel and his train all the way to the docks.

BoCo was there and cheered as both twins triumphantly came to a stop at the docks. "We did it, Ben!" cried Bill.

"We did Bill!" replied Ben.

BoCo rolled up alongside. "You did splendidly you two," he said, "the dock manager told us about Derek breaking down and I'm glad that both you came to his aid, I was hoping not to go down that line anytime soon!"

Bill and Ben beamed proudly and both twins shunted the trucks away so that one of the Scottish twins would take it in the morning. Once they did that, they puffed into the sheds they spent in last night. BoCo had just left with the final goods that night with a few of the clay wagons Derek brought and he took the broken-down diesel and his train back to Wellsworth.

Later, Edward came into the sheds. "Are the sheds full tonight Edward?" joked Bill.

"Derek is spending the night there and will be taken to the works tomorrow," replied Edward with a warm smile on his face. "Sir Charles Hatt has also told me to congratulate you both on bringing Derek the rest of the way."

"So... what's going to happen to us now that Derek is going to be sent to the works?" asked Ben.

"Don't worry," smiled Edward, "the expansion will go much slower, but you won't be worked off your wheels!"

"That's great!" smiled Bill, "but's what's going to happen to Derek?"

"Not sure," replied Edward, "but Sir Charles Hatt will have an idea with what to do with him once the diesel is mended."

Bill and Ben thought the diesel was friendly and talked to Edward about him and other subjects throughout the night. But what will happen to Derek wouldn't be revealed until much later, but I shouldn't say anymore, otherwise I'll spoil the next story.


	12. Ep49: Smoke Signals

Derek the Paxman diesel had been sent to the works to be mended. He had come to the island to help the Sodor China Clay Company with their expansion project, only to be on loan and head back to the other railway. Derek hoped he would do well on the island, but he had broken down on the first day whilst travelling to his destination and broke down again the next day. The Paxman diesel felt depressed, the workmen tried to make him feel better about himself whilst fixing his engine, but nothing could help poor Derek.

At last, by the time Derek came out of the works, the spring sun was beginning to shine and the Paxman diesel was able to move under his own power once again. The Fat Controller came to visit the diesel the day after he had successfully done his tests.

"You must be Derek," he greeted warmly, "I've heard a lot about you from my engines that are and were stationed on the Brendam Branch!"

"You've probably had sir," replied Derek, "I do apologise for disrupting your railway and engines, I was meant to help but didn't in the end."

"It isn't your fault," sympathised the Fat Controller, "your class haven't been that successful and we shouldn't judge an engine by performance."

Derek sighed. "Yes sir," he replied, "so... what's going to happen to me?"

"The expansion is almost complete," replied the Fat Controller, "and the manager and myself have reshuffled the timetable so that both Sodor China Clay and my railway can handle the extra loads."

"Yes sir, sorry sir," said Derek, giving an apologetic look on his face.

"It doesn't matter now," the Fat Controller waved off, "but you won't be going back to the other railway anytime soon, currently an engine working on one of my branch line's is overworked and needs some help, I have taken you off loan from the SCC and want you to work here until the work dies down on that line."

"Are you sure sir?" asked Derek.

"Oh course," smiled the Fat Controller, "you're the only engine available from the other railway and it's better if I don't further make changes to timetables that my engines currently have."

Derek didn't want to the Fat Controller to do that, so complied and was soon heading down the line with a small goods train. He soon reached the next station and went into a yard. "This must be the branch line," he said to himself. Then, from within a small cutting which one track lead down, a red engine appeared. He wasn't an engine Derek had seen before and looked quite dated. But his face barely had any wrinkles. 'Lucky chap,' he thought Derek in bemusement, as the red engine came into the station, 'his face stopped ageing.'

The red engine had no number on his tender or cab though. In fact the tender was bare from any words, letters or numbers, but a black and gold nameplate stood on his middle splasher. He had black stripes on them too, as well on his cab, boiler and tender. The tender was also quite different from the other Fowler tenders Derek kept on seeing. He was quite unique from the others. The Paxman diesel then looked back at the gleaming nameplate, saying it bright gold letters: 'The Soaring Eagle'.

"Hello there," called the red engine, "you must be Derek I presume?"

"Indeed, I am!" replied the Paxman diesel, "and you are...?"

"My name is The Soaring Eagle," replied the engine grandly, "but everyone usually calls me Eagle."

"That sounds like a smashing name!" grinned Derek.

"Indeed, it is," smiled Eagle, "have had it for half a century now, changing the subject now, you must be here to help me, correct?"

"Indeed, I am," replied Derek, "I'm guessing a train is need to be taken then."

"Yes," said Eagle simply, "there's a small goods train needing to be taken to the other end of the line, it would be very helpful if you could take it."

"Don't worry," Derek smiled, "it will be fun!"

And with that, the Paxman diesel set to work.

Derek found his current job to be quite enjoyable. It wasn't as stressful and demanding as his previous one, and his engine seemed to be running nicely. Eagle, though stubborn when he wanted to be right, was kind and smart. He didn't seem to tolerate nonsense and was proud of his work.

Eagle mainly focused on the heavy work such as pulling passenger trains and longer goods trains. He kept a close eye on what Derek was pulling and made sure he was not rushed off his wheels.

One day, Eagle was pulling into Rolf's station with his usual afternoon passenger run. It was a bright sunny day and the heat seemed to be strong coming off the sun which loomed above the clear blue sky. "It's gonna be a lot warmer tomorrow!" called his driver, "the heat will be unbearable!"

"Aye," replied Eagle, "not looking forward to that then!"

The midland engine then heard a horn, and Derek appeared with a small goods train. "Be careful on your way up to Kellsthorpe Road," tooted Derek, "the looks a little rough."

"A little rough," echoed Eagle, "best take care then... thanks Derek!"

And with that, the Paxman diesel set off towards Kirk Ronan.

Soon, it was time for Eagle to leave, and with a blast of his low whistle, the midland engine headed off once more. But as he was heading along the line, Eagle could not find any damage track. "That's odd," he said to himself, the midland engine tried harder but couldn't.

"That silly diesel," scoffed Eagle as he began to pick up speed to Kellsthorpe Road, "there's no damage."

Eagle got to the junction just in time, where Henry was waiting. "One notch faster and you would've derailed," Henry commented.

"Sorry," puffed Eagle.

Later that night, Eagle was in his two-birth shed at the junction, when Derek came into the spare birth. "Derek," started Eagle, "you said there was damage on the track earlier."

"Indeed, I did," said the Paxman diesel.

"Then where was it?" quizzed the midland engine, "because I couldn't see it anywhere!"

"Really?" said Derek, "well... I'm sure I did see a bump in the track."

"Probably the heat playing with you," sighed Eagle.

"No, I don't think it did," Derek replied, "because I kept seeing it for the rest of the day. My driver says I've got a knack of doing that."

"A knack of seeing bent rails?"

"A knack of seeing damage rails," smiled the Paxman diesel, "I would always find a spot of bent or bumpy rails wherever I go, can't explain it really."

Eagle said no more after that and went to sleep.

The next day, the sun was shining, and birds tweeted loudly. Both diesel and steam engine were getting ready for work, then Derek's driver spoke up. "I saw a smoke signal last night."

"A smoke signal?" Eagle's fireman replied, "what was that for?"

"Dunno," said Derek's driver, "I believe the Scouts were just playing around with it at their hut near Wellsworth."

"What's smoke signals?" asked Derek curiously. Eagle looked at the Paxman diesel and smiled.

"Smoke signals are communicating with smoke," the midland engine explained, "you put something above the smoke so it separates, and the smoke can talk to people from a distance."

Derek found it intriguing on what something that seems to be so abnormal to use as way of speaking was actually quite useful, but nobody didn't continue the subject and both engines headed off to work a few minutes later.

As the morning sun continued to climb the clear blue sky, Eagle took a goods train to the small goods yard of Vicarstown. The rough diesel who worked the goods traffic on the Norramby branch, was waiting for the midland engine. He grunted as he saw Eagle puff in.

"Thought you were going to break down with how fragile you look," he said insultingly.

Eagle wheeshed steam. "Moan to your fitter will you," he retorted, "you diesels are always good with that."

The diesel growled his engine. "You'd better watch your mouth," he warned, "because you won't be getting any pity from me when you'd be sent to the scrapyard."

"What about you diesels?" asked Eagle, "you're not as efficient from with all the trials other diesels failing through the years."

"Not my fault," sneered the diesel, "besides, only the class 17 and 28s are to blame for diesel's failure, they ruin our image! But it doesn't matter now, all the class 28s went out of service in the late 60s and the class 17s are being finished off too."

Eagle looked shocked. "Class 17s are being withdrawn?" he asked.

"Yeah they are," smirked the diesel, "started getting disposed off in 1968 and they're planning to finish them off later this year."

He paused, his smirk growing wider by the minute, Eagle's brow only narrowed crossly. "That diesel on your line is a class 17, ain't he?"

"None of your business to know who works on my line," growled Eagle, blowing steam from his cylinders in all directions.

"Alright," sniggered the diesel, "but you'd best say your final goodbyes to the little failure over there."

Eagle fumed and left the Norramby diesel with his boiler pressure shot up and pistons beating hard.

Eagle was soon heading back to his junction with a goods train, still cross about what the diesel had said. But he was soon calming down and thinking about the facts. "Class 17s are being withdrawn from service," he muttered, "but what's going to happen to Derek once he's taken back to the other railway?"

Meanwhile, Gordon was at Kellsthorpe Road with his returning passenger run to Tidmouth. Derek was taking a passenger service and had a guaranteed connection with the big blue engine. Unfortunately for Derek, his engine had played up at Rolf's Castle making him late. This made Gordon cross as he watched as the Paxman diesel came into the branch line platform.

"You're late," he remarked.

"I know," sighed Derek, "I do apologise, it was my engine you see."

"Failed diesel," scoffed Gordon, "I can't have time for late engines! I need to get this train back to Tidmouth on time because that blasted red engine can't seem to steam up properly and I'll have to take his passenger train after an hour when I return to Tidmouth!"

"Oh dear," said Derek, wondering if Gordon was talking about Eagle, "I am sorry about this."

"I hope you are," Gordon replied, "because we can't have diesels bellowing black smoke out his exhaust every two days, there's no use to diesels then!"

He steamed off in a huff, leaving Derek at the platform feeling terrible. His driver comforted him. "Don't bother with him," he said, "he's probably just going to get overworked today and in this heat... well, you can't really blame him to be this frustrated."

Derek agreed and what Gordon said was put to the back of his mind. Eagle soon returned and took over the passenger services for the rest of day, but the midland engine couldn't stop thinking about what the Norramby diesel had said to him for the rest of the morning and Derek noticed Eagle being a little distracted. At midday, the heat began to unleash itself on Sodor. The engines found it quite exhausting and even the diesels, who didn't have fireboxes that heated the steam engines up, were finding the sun treatment towards the ground quite harsh. But Derek, who was being bothered by the heat could see Eagle was not showing his positive attitude. This was shown even more at the small harbour right in front of the top station of Eagle's branch line when Derek was shunting a few trucks.

"What's the matter Eagle?" he called to the midland engine.

Eagle snapped out of his thoughts from within the small station of Kirk Ronan and smiled at Derek. "Oh, nothing," he replied, "just thinking about... birds."

"Birds?" chortled Derek, "seems like a pleasant thought!"

"Yes..." agreed Eagle, "very pleasant thought..."

He trailed back into his thoughts, wondering on what would happen to Derek if he would leave Sodor and what he can do if he was able to get the Fat Controller to let him stay. He was uncoupled from his coaches and began to move forward, a little too quickly, he went over the points and onto the other track, but he was going a little too fast and before anyone could say otherwise, Eagle hit the buffers with a bump. Everyone turned to where the noise came from and Eagle was dazed and surprised.

"What happened there, Eagle?" called his driver, "you're usually very good with concentrating on the job!"

"S-Sorry!" stammered the midland engine, whose cheeks went red as his dark red paintwork. "Must've had my mind going somewhere else."

"You certainly did," called another voice, Derek pulled up. "That sounded like a nasty bump Eagle."

"Felt it too," grunted Eagle, as he felt an ache from his buffers come on.

"Might need to inspect you Eagle," called his driver, "could've damaged something for all we know!"

"But I've got a train to take to Killdane in a few minutes!" Eagle cried.

"I can pull it," suggested Derek.

Eagle and both crews looked at Derek. "Are you sure you can pull it?" asked Eagle, "the goods train is quite a long one."

"Oh, a train like that won't bother me," chuckled the Paxman diesel, "besides it's only to the next station up the mainline."

"But it's quite a long stretch," replied Eagle.

"It might be difficult," added Derek's driver, "but his engine hasn't shown any problems recently."

"I'm sure I can do it!" protested the Paxman diesel, "I'll get the train there on time."

Eventually, Eagle's crew agree and Derek headed off to get ready whilst Eagle was sent into a siding so to get inspected of any damage. The Paxman diesel was excited, he hadn't been out on the mainline for a while and was looking forward to the change of scenery. He was soon buffered up to the train and with a honk to his horn, Derek rumbled out of the harbour and onto the branch line. Eagle could all but watch and worry.

Surprisingly, Derek was doing well, he had managed to get to Eagle's junction, turn himself around and move the brake van and himself so they were on opposite sides of the train, so Derek could head to Killdane. He started off and rumbled over the points to the mainline. The Paxman diesel was enjoying himself.

But the heat was getting unbearable, and Derek felt the strain of the train, he was halfway towards Killdane, until at last, his engine made a choking and spluttering noise and Derek felt the train and his wheels weren't wanting to move no more. He came to a halt on the mainline, black smoke coming out of his exhaust and the baking sun gleaming down on him.

"Oh bother!" cried Derek, "we were going so well too!"

His driver got down and looked at the Paxman diesel's engine. He sighed. "You ain't going anywhere any time soon," he said, "engine is a wreck."

Derek felt terrible, he had been going so well for the past few weeks and now his engine failed at the last minute. He looked down at the tracks, too ashamed of his predicament. Suddenly, he noticed something odd on the down track on the left side of him. He looked closely at it, then gasp. "One of rails is bent out of shape!" he called to his driver.

The Paxman diesel's driver came to look at the bent rail, a few minutes later, he came back up to Derek, who was beginning to have double the black smoke come out of his exhaust than before. "It's pretty bad," he said, "the track will get worse with all this heat."

Suddenly, they heard a booming whistle from within the distance. Derek gasp. "Another engine is coming!" he cried, "they're going to derail if we don't stop them!"

"What are we going to do then?" asked Derek's driver.

Derek pondered and then he gleamed in delight. "We use the smoke from my exhaust as a smoke signal!" he said.

"I do know how to tell someone to stop with smoke signals," said the driver, " but are you sure that's going to work?"

"It's the only chance we've got," replied Derek firmly.

So, Derek's driver quickly ripped a tarpaulin from the first truck and began waving it across the black smoke coming from his engine's exhaust. The driver soon had a smoke signal going into the air and within a few minutes, Gordon the big engine came around screeching and groaning, his wheels flying sparks between them and the rails. He groaned and huffed, he came closer and closer to the bent rails, Derek was sure he was going to derail. But at last, with his sand coming out of his sandboxes and giving him a good grip, he managed to slow the train down to a stop, his leading wheels just coming across the damage track.

Both engines breathed a sigh of relief, it was very close call. Passengers looked out of their windows in confusion and annoyance, the sudden and jolting stop didn't please them one bit, Gordon's crew went to look at the track, whilst Derek went to the nearest signal box to halt further mainline traffic and Gordon's guard had to deal with the passengers.

Gordon, after a minute of pure amazement, finally spoke. "What on earth was that?" he cried.

"What was what?" replied Derek.

"That... thing you did so to stop us," said Gordon, "we saw smoke from nearby and all of a sudden I find my driver trying to brake my train and I to a stop."

"Oh! That was a smoke signal," Derek said and explained to Gordon what they were.

"Lucky thing your fireman knew too," added Gordon's driver once Derek had finished.

"Aye, Scouting always gives you a thing or two," chuckled the fireman.

"Indeed," agreed Derek's driver.

Soon, warnings were placed on the line. A weird engine with a crane arm on top of his boiler with the name 'HARVEY' came. He buffered up to Derek from the front and took him to Killdane.

"Looks like yae had a rough time!" called Harvey, as he brought Derek into Killdane yards. "That smoke must've wreck yae engine!"

"I think it did," sighed the Paxman diesel, "I do apolo-"

"Naaaah, don't worry aboot it!" Harvey cut in, "it's me job and it keeps me busy!"

Derek did not say any more. Gordon eventually came puffing in with shunting his train carefully onto the other line, he had now been scheduled to switch tracks and would return to his original track at Kellsthorpe Road. He came to a stop once he and his train were on the other line. He looked around the yards and at Derek, then he smiled.

"I think," he started, "that an apology is in order, sorry for my rudeness earlier, wasn't very professional of me, I wasn't being fair either since I've given other diesels chances and much respect!"

Derek's cheeks went a deep shade of red. "Well... uh thank you very much Gordon," the Paxman diesel replied.

Gordon grunted and headed back down the mainline, leaving Derek and Harvey alone. Soon, maintenance crews came to repair the damaged track, and an engineer also came to inspect Derek's engine. The Fat Controller eventually on-board Eagle the Midland Engine arrived just as Harvey came back from fixing the track with the maintenance crew. The inspector gave the details on the situation.

"He needs to go to works for another month if he's to run again sir," he explained.

The Fat Controller sighed. "Well... work seems to ease up on the Kirk Ronan branch anyways," he said, "it would be pointless to repair a diesel like you again if your owned by another railway. I'll just have to send you back to where you came from Derek."

Derek looked at the Fat Controller sadly, a knowing glint in his eyes to what would come next. "Yes sir..." he said.

Eagle stared at the Fat Controller, then at Derek, then back again. "Please sir!" he cried quickly, "I don't think that's fair on Derek."

Everyone around the midland engine paused. The Fat Controller shuffled on where he was standing. "What do you mean by that Eagle?"

"You do know what's happening with the class 17s on the other railway?"

"Yes. I am aware."

"Then why can't you keep Derek?" continued Eagle, "after all, he stopped a nasty accident and has been extremely helpful on my branch line ever since he's gotten here! He's been polite and kind, he's a hard worker too."

The Fat Controller pondered, everyone stared at him, waiting for his answer, then the man with the top hat groaned and placed his fingers on the bridge of his nose. "There isn't anyway I can put him on the railway Eagle," he finally said, much to Eagle, Harvey and mostly Derek's sadness. "He could be a utility engine and the works can improve his engine, but not enough for him to be working constantly everywhere! We need a job that doesn't make Derek strain himself."

Eagle sighed and looked at his buffers in disappointment. Derek felt like crying, all this hope he had for a few seconds were snatched away. Suddenly, a low toot of a whistle came, and everyone looked at Harvey the Crane Engine whose face had lighten up from realisation. "I know a job that Derek would suit perfectly!" he cried.

"And what's that?" asked the Fat Controller.

"The maintenance trains!"

Everyone stared at Harvey with puzzled looks. "But Harvey," said Eagle, "you're the maintenance engine."

"Yes I am," replied Harvey, "but as you all know, I also work at smaller yards across the island where I unload goods and other things to where they're needed, the railway has also expanded a little with the Little Western and all, and I'm afraid we've been behind schedule a couple of times."

"That's true," said the permanent way foreman, "it's been quite a hassle with looking after the lines ever since the reopening of the Little Western branch and the paperwork is proof that we haven't been up to schedule as well as we were in 1966."

"He's also has good eyesight with track inspection!" added Eagle, "proof is with today's events."

Everyone nodded and mumbled in agreement, it seemed like it was all up to the controller of the North Western Railway to make the final judgement, with everyone in the yard wanting Derek to join the railway! The Fat Controller nodded solemnly, contemplating what he had just heard. Nobody dared to breath. Derek's lip trembled, hope spurring in his engine. At last, the Fat Controller began to grow a smile and nodded.

"That's it!" he laughed, "well done Harvey, you're a clever engine! Derek shall become a part of our railway and be our permanent maintenance diesel!"

Everyone cheered, the engines blew their whistles and Derek let out a sigh of relief and a tear of joy came down his cheek. "Thank you, sir," he smiled, "I promise I'll never let you down again!"

The Fat Controller winked at the Paxman diesel. "I know you won't," he all but said, and left the yard to make the arrangements.

*

A week later, Derek was brought off the Network Rail. He was given an immediate overhaul and a new coat of paint of BR green. Once he came out of the works, he felt like a new engine and was put on maintenance duties straight after testing. And much to the Harvey and the permanent way crew's predictions, Derek had given a great impact to them. Maintenance ran on time and Harvey felt more relaxed with his trains.

Derek now lives at Crovan's Gate with Harvey and has gained all the engines respect, especially Gordon who made sure James would've get to the Paxman diesel with his insults about diesels. He soon reunited with Bill and Ben and the tank engine twins seemed incredibly pleased to see the Paxman diesel was doing well. But most of all, Derek is always internally grateful to Eagle the Midland Engine who gave him a new lease of life and one with a brighter and happier future.


	13. Ep50: BoCo Gives A Bump

**A/N: Sorry for no story recently, and this one is quite short too but I took a break since my motivation went away from this and gone onto something else. But I hope you all enjoy!**

**1972**

BoCo the Big Diesel, worked on Edward's branch line, but occasionally help on the mainline when it gets too busy for the other engines. The big diesel doesn't mind the work he is given and works hard for the Fat Controller. But when he first came to the railway he did not feel well and would often fail, but he would still try his best to work. The Fat Controller saw his potential and decided to buy him and with a heavy overhaul on his engine, BoCo managed to become a valued asset, but also wanted to prove that no faults were in him again, this made him determined.

But one week in March 1972, an inspector came to the railway to see how the operations of the North Western Railway were. He inspected each line and each engine, on how they've preformed and how their recent track record was. He soon came to the Brendam branch line, where he inspected the line and engines working on them. He soon confirmed that new beams should come and replace some old ones on the marshland bridge and also had a problem once coming up to BoCo, he looked all over him with scepticism, but carried on with inspecting him like any other engine, with BoCo, waiting nervously for his conclusion.

When he got out of the big diesel, he finished writing some notes on his notepad. BoCo, plucked up the courage to speak. "Umm... excuse me sir," he said, "may I ask what was your stare earlier? Sorry for being a little rude, but you seemed a little... put off by me."

"Well I wasn't expecting a class 28 to be here," replied the inspector, "you are in good, working condition, so don't worry. But I have one question I want to ask you do you have a brake tender?"

BoCo faulted, he never expected a question such as that. "No, I don't sir," he said, "but I think I work just as well."

The inspector stared at BoCo for a few seconds, then nodded his head his head. "Well if you say so," he said, "but it'll still be mentioned as a suggestion to Sir Charles Hatt in the document."

He tipped his bowler hat to his crew and left. BoCo grumbled about. The next day, the big diesel was sent to work on the mainline. But he couldn't help but think about what the inspector had said to him, he did have trouble with stopping his train he admitted that, but he and his driver always slow down the train earlier and carefully before it comes to their stop. So why should he have a brake tender?

It was on his mind for most of the day, until he arrived at the mainline sheds at Tidmouth. Some of the other engines were there too, cooling down for a day of hard work. But after a few minutes of chatting, Henry slowly noticed something off with BoCo.

"What's the matter BoCo?" he asked, "you're not usually like this."

BoCo looked at Henry, and then the rest of the engines who had seemed to stop talking to look at the big diesel himself. "Nothing's wrong Henry," replied BoCo, "just thinking about a few things."

"Is it about that inspector?" quizzed Bear.

BoCo looked over to the hydraulic diesel, then sighed. "Fine, the inspector examined me yesterday and says I need a brake tender. That's it!"

There was silence in the shed for a second, until James the Red Engine spoke up. "What is a brake tender?"

"A brake tender is a tender that has scrap steel within which adds the braking force for an engine who's brakes aren't properly working," explained BoCo, "I personally don't like them because they're supposed to go in front of us diesels. How are we meant to see?"

Most of the other engines didn't know what a brake tender was, so they decided to leave it at that and go to sleep whilst BoCo still fumed about the topic of it to himself.

The next day, BoCo was scheduled to take a slow goods to Vicarstown and return to Tidmouth with a fast freight train. He liked fast freights, he didn't have long stops at stations and was allowed to go fast by his driver along the mainline. "This is the life, this is the life," he chanted, he was incredibly pleased with himself. He then saw Douglas at a stop signal with another slow goods to the mainland. BoCo then felt the brake tender swirl into his mind once more. "I don't need a brake tender," he muttered to himself, "I do just fine without one."

There are many different types of signals on a railway, but there are two you would mainly see along the mainline which are called running signals. The first one being a stop signal with the red stick pointing out with a white line going down it near the end. When the signal shows red, that means the engine must stop no matter what. The other one was called a distant signal; these signals allow engines to go through, but they must go down the line with caution. Most engines would go slow with these signals and knew they were just as essential as stop signals and fast trains need them especially since they help tell the engine or crew that they need to slow down and could warn them of a stop signal and without a distant signal for fast trains could be very dangerous.

Down the mainline a sheep had wondered onto the line and began to find a distant signal quite intriguing. James the Red Engine had to go through slowly so not to harm him or the sheep and to get the sheep off the line. His crew succeeded but James was now running late and BoCo would be due to go through Wellsworth too soon for James to clear the line for the big diesel at Crosby, which was where BoCo would pass the red engine's stopping service. The signalman at Wellsworth was forced to put set a distant signal at caution but that was the same signal the sheep had found so interesting and had tampered with wires which had stuck out of it. The signal had failed and didn't warn BoCo of the train ahead.

Meanwhile, James had reached Crosby safely and was resting at the station platform. The signalman at Crosby was about to change points for BoCo's train to go on the through line, suddenly, he heard the big diesel's horn. The signalman gasped, knowing that he hadn't set BoCo on the other line, he set the nearest stop signal at danger and called the stationmaster as quickly. The mainline went along a straight section before reaching the station, so as BoCo saw James' train ahead, he immediately slammed his brakes and his buffers felt the weight of the trucks coming upon him. The stationmaster who had gotten the call, got porters and the guard to evacuate all the passengers from within the coaches or on the platform. James could only sit there with his coaches as BoCo came closer and closer. His screeching wheels slipping along the rails, he was slowing down, but not as quickly as anyone hoped.

With a tremendous bump, BoCo hit the back of James' train. The red engine shot forward and the brake coach derail, whilst BoCo came grinding halt, still on the rails, but his front buffers were now cracked from the impact he gave James' train. No one was hurt and Derek with the permanent way crew came to help clear up the mess. By then BoCo had moved back and was sitting behind James' train which still stood there. Another soon came with another train to take the passengers on from the red engine's stopping service and the Fat Controller and the inspector came to see what had happened.

They watched as the breakdown crane placed the wailing coach back onto the rails, then went to see if James was alright. Lastly, they walked up to BoCo, who was being examined for any further damages. Fortunately, it was only his buffers that were just cracked and nothing major.

"I'm sorry sir," said BoCo at last, "I really did my best to stop."

"Don't worry BoCo," the Fat Controller smiled, "we know you did your best and we're investigating the matter at this very second."

The inspector looked at the stout gentleman, then glanced up at BoCo, then down the straight section of track. "May I ask," he ventured, "what speed would you say you were going."

BoCo thought for a second. "I was going about fifty miles per hour down the line sir," he responded, "that was the speed I was mostly going along the mainline."

"I see," said the inspector, "Sir Topham Hatt, this straight section of track is how long?"

The Fat Controller stared back at the inspector. "It's roughly about a little over half a mile," he replied cautiously.

The inspector then got something out of his grey, leather coat which was in a black slab of plastic. BoCo had heard of them before, they were called calculators and were recently invented and given to inspectors on the international railway. The inspector tapped on some buttons and seemed to stare down at it. Then look back at up with his eyes twinkling in triumph over something. "I'm afraid sir," he declared to the Fat Controller, "that your diesel number two here will be needing a brake tender."

The Fat Controller raised his brow, BoCo swore he could see his hand twitching so to not make it go into a fist. "Oh indeed," the stout gentleman said, "how so may I ask?"

"Simple," replied the inspector, "it has come to my calculation that if this diesel here had a brake tender, his braking force would've increased and prevented a nasty accident. But he didn't which has caused a coach to derail, the diesel to have damaged buffers and a steam engine that could be out of action for further inspection for the rest of the day. Furthermore, if I am correct, a steam engine could've stopped before reaching the train or at least not bump the train as hard as your engine here."

The Fat Controller said nothing in return.

"It's for the best sir," said the inspector, and he walked away to check on the cleaning procees. BoCo was most distraught.

"But everyone would laugh at me sir," he cried, "they say I look like a cucumber with a tail pulling a train backwards!"

The Fat Controller tried hard to laugh at BoCo's remark. "Yesterday I would not have wanted to give you a break tender," he said, "but these events that have just occurred and even more evidence of you being compared to steam engines, I'm afraid it's inevitable that you'll be getting a brake tender."

BoCo said no more and looked down to his cracked buffers. "Don't worry," smiled the Fat Controller, "I'll do my best with this situation and I hope you understand."

He tipped his hat and walked away, leaving BoCo feeling rather depressed.


	14. Ep51: The Weight to the Rails

The Fat Controller was true to his word, two weeks later, a brake tender was dropped off at Edward's station by Henry. Edward looked at it curiously, whilst the brake tender scanned the yards. His grey eyes then saw the blue engine next to the water tower in the yards and grinned.

"Hello there!" he called, "my names Weighty and you are...?"

"My name is Edward," smiled the blue engine, "I'm guessing you're here to help one of ours?"

"Yes, I am," replied Weighty, "I am to assist this BoCo lad with braking power, wouldn't be here if that wasn't my purpose!"

"Good," said Edward, "BoCo is arriving soon, I hope you two will get along!"

Edward shunted Weighty into a siding and went to fetch his coaches. Just as he pulled them into the platform, BoCo rattled into view with a goods train and coming to slow stop next to Edward's train on the second line. His new buffers looking splendid.

"Your new brake tender has arrived," Edward stated, "I've shunted him into a siding close to the sheds so you can talk with him."

"Oh, um... thank you Edward," said BoCo, a little hesitant.

The old blue engine sighed. "You know the Fat Controller couldn't do much about the situation BoCo," he said, "after that incident it has been confirmed that any steam engine going at that speed and distance would've stopped or hit the back of the train less harder than you did."

"I know that, but it's humiliating!" cried BoCo.

Edward sighed. "I would advise you to just talk with the brake tender," he said, "who knows! You might get along with him."

The guard then blew his whistle, and Edward set off up the branch line leaving BoCo with his trucks. BoCo soon shunted the trucks into their proper sidings in the yard and went over to the brake tender.

"Hello!" called the brake tender, "you must be BoCo, my name is Weighty."

"Nice to meet you," replied BoCo hesitantly, "how are you getting on?"

"Oh! It's lovely lad," exclaimed Weighty enthusiastically, "never been on such a lovely railway! Been here long?"

"Only for seven years."

"Jeez! I'm surprised that I haven't been called in earlier to help you," stated Weighty, "being here that long and not needing a brake tender!"

Of course, Weighty never meant to offend BoCo, but the big diesel growled viciously at the brake tender. "I managed just as well without one of you," he said, "the only reason why you're here is because of some silly reason of me stopping in time."

Weighty chuckled lightly, he was beginning to find BoCo quite intimidating. "Say, can I join you on your next journey?" he asked, "it could make us talk more whilst at it!"

BoCo was hesitant, but his driver thought a grand idea. So, with his driver taking over control, the big diesel buffered up to the eager brake tender and they set off with a small train of trucks down the mainline. Whilst BoCo coasted along the line, Weighty wanted to chat to him, but unfortunately for him it was mostly one-sided since BoCo only said simple replies. They finally arrived at the big station and dropped off the trucks behind the station and in the yard.

Whilst refilling up with diesel, James the Red Engine came into the yards. He had not fully forgiven BoCo for smashing into the back of his train and was slightly satisfied when looking over to see BoCo with the the brake tender dozing in the sun, whilst he tried to make himself as invisible as possible.

"Hello BoCo," he called with a wry grin covering most of his face, "is that your brake tender?"

Before the big diesel could reply, Weighty spoke out. "Indeed, I am lad, my name is Weighty! What's yours?"

"James."

"Nice name lad," chuckled Weighty.

"I see you've made BoCo quite silent," continued James slyly.

"Is he always like this then?" asked Weighty.

"Well of course not!" replied James, "he's never been this quiet when he's our yards."

"Must be me then!" Weighty joked.

"Yes..." said James, "must be."

"Come on James," called his driver, "we better head to the sheds!"

James agreed, and steam came out of his pistons. "Nice talking to you," he said, "and make sure you keep BoCo in line for me!"

"Don't worry lad, I will!" BoCo rolled his eyes whilst James puffed away, muttering 'lad' under his breath with a grin that crinkled his cheeks.

Soon enough BoCo was due to take a slow goods train to the mainland. He was ordered to take Weighty along too. BoCo was still embarrassed by having a brake tender but said nothing as he collected the first part of the goods. Slow goods trains are mainly kept for the mix-traffic engines such as James or Bear but were unavailable so BoCo was ordered to take them instead. Luckily, none of the engines on Thomas' branch line were seen, and no engine had chance to stop at Crosby whilst BoCo collect some more trucks. The big diesel was incredibly grateful for this, as he rumbled along the line whilst Weighty hummed ahead, he had noticed on how it was much easier to stop with the brake tender. He decided not to mention it though as he carried on down the line.

But things would take a turn as they reached Edward's station. As BoCo left his trucks on the mainline so to collect some more trucks, there was trouble, the points were set against him when he was trying to move over and Weighty's front bogie came off the rails.

BoCo growled crossly, as his driver clambered down to inspect Weighty. He thought Weighty had done it on purpose. "I knew brake tenders were rubbish!" he cried out loud, "they do this to make diesel engines look like fools!"

"I'm sorry lad," Weighty replied, "but you see-"

"Don't bring any excuses into this," cut in BoCo, "you did that on purpose!"

Luckily, Weighty had not blocked the path of BoCo reaching the trucks, so the workmen, signalman and driver decided to leave Weighty there until Edward got back and BoCo would carry on without the brake tender. BoCo was still cross and left the station in a furious temper leaving an extremely uncomfortable, but guilty Weighty behind.

Whilst BoCo was continuing with pulling the slow goods, he realised in comparison to having Weighty or not, the brake tender was actually quite helpful. The train arrived a few minutes late though at Barrow and BoCo and a mainland diesel had a small quarrel before their drivers forced them away from each other.

BoCo was nearly done for the day. He had one more trip down the mainline with a fast freight train back to Tidmouth. He felt this trip would be a lot better without Weighty though and half an hour later was pulling the train back to Sodor.

As he was travelling along the mainline, he was thinking about what he would say to Weighty when they next met. But he was too busy thinking that he was being rough with the trucks, the trucks were insulted and wanted to pay BoCo out. They decided to play out their plan when they reached Gordon's hill. The big diesel stormed up the hill with the trucks coming quietly behind him. Then there was trouble, as BoCo began to break so he could have the trucks pin down their brakes, the wagons decided to play out their plan.

"ON! ON! ON! ON!" they screamed and banging their buffers, they pushed a shocked BoCo down the hill.

"HELP!" cried BoCo, his driver applied the brakes, but it was useless against the laughing trucks, he rattled down the hill and under the stone bridge. He went around the bend at a tremendous speed, almost coming off the rails. He tried to brake harder, but he couldn't, as sparks came between his wheels and the rails, he and his train carried on towards Edward's station.

Meanwhile, Edward had pulled Weighty back onto the rails and was about to shunt the still gloomy brake tender into a siding when they heard BoCo's horn, Edward gasped when recognising the three toots with the last one being the longest. "That's the emergency code," he said, "he must be endanger."

"Must be a runaway on that hill," said Weighty, "Edward, push me onto the mainline."

Edward looked at Weighty in shock. "But you'll get smashed to pieces!" he exclaimed.

"Not if I keep on rolling," replied Weighty, "just uncouple me and push me as hard as you can onto the mainline. Do it quickly lad he'll be here any minute!"

A shunter quickly uncoupled Weighty from Edward. The BoCo came around the corner, he wasn't going as fast as he was going down the hill but was still going over the speed limit. Edward quickly blew his whistle to warn the signalman and gave Weighty a mighty shove. The brake tender rolled over the points and onto the mainline, quickly the signalman changed the points just in time as BoCo screeched over them with laughing and screaming trucks.

He gave Weighty a mighty bash. Both diesel and brake tender seethed from the sudden hit. But there wasn't any time to lick the wounds as Weighty felt his wheels going much faster than before.

"Right," he said firmly, "don't worry BoCo lad, I've you!"

Weighty began to hold his weight onto the rails and immediately, BoCo felt the sudden change of braking force with the train. They began to slow down. The trucks growled crossly and tried to push them further on.

"GO ON! GO ON!" they rattled.

"Oh no you don't," said Weighty, as held back even more, BoCo also did too and with each other's help, the trucks eventually tired out and the train came to screeching stop at last. The trucks all grumbled with disappointment whilst BoCo and Weighty gave a sigh of relief.

Edward soon came to see if everything was alright. "Are you alright BoCo?" he asked, as he came up next to the big diesel.

"Yes I'm fine, thank you Edward," replied BoCo, "if it wasn't for Weighty though well... I would be in a sorry state!"

"I should think that too," came a voice, BoCo jumped. Out of Edward's cab, was the Fat Controller.

"I heard about the derailment at Wellsworth BoCo and your little temper lost there," he said, "reports say that the points weren't set right and Weighty derailed on them whilst they were against him. Even though I'm glad you got the train to Barrow without any further mishap, I would want you to keep your... weight on the rails with you at all times whilst on the mainline, accidents and incidents like these can happen and I don't want to receive any reports or bills on my desk because of a crash."

BoCo blushed. "Yes sir, I'm truly sorry sir."

The Fat Controller nodded. "Make sure you keep Weighty with you whilst on the mainline," he said, "you can continue on the journey with him now."

"But sir," said BoCo, "I might be damaged from this incident."

"Trust me BoCo," said the Fat Controller, "you seem fine to me."

He walked back to Edward's cab and the blue engine reversed back up to his station whilst BoCo carried on with a coupled up Weighty in front. Both didn't say anything at first, but once going through Thomas' junction, BoCo finally spoke up.

"I'm sorry I treated you the way I did," he said, "I just didn't want to look like a failed engine to the Fat Controller and brake tenders such as yourself were usually seen as support for diesels and well, some classes of diesels thought diesels who have them showed weakness."

"Nah, it's completely fine lad," smiled Weighty, "I understand because I've seen those diesel poke fun of the other diesels who push us around. We do are best though, some diesels who need us despise us, whilst others enjoy are company."

BoCo smiled. "Let's restart from the beginning," he said, "I'm BoCo."

"Please to re-meet you BoCo, I'm Weighty."

After that, BoCo and Weighty became good friends. BoCo never leaves Weighty behind when he works on the mainline and always enjoys his company. But when BoCo doesn't need the brake tender, you can see Weighty dozing in the sun whilst sitting in a siding near the sheds at Edward's station, completely content with himself and happy to be a part of the North Western Railway.


	15. Ep52: Dirt and Grim

**A/N: Hey guys! Hope you all are enjoying my series. This is slightly based upon an season 8 episode. Hope you all figure which one is it and enjoy!**

There are many engines on Sodor. Some engines run on the Culdee Fell Railway, some run on the Skarloey Railway, and the North Western Railway is seen to have the most engines from all the Sudrian railways. But other engines on Sodor are privately owned for enthusiasts to admire and enjoy such as Emily and Whiff, who were sold to highly successful landlords and are showcased across the island or even on the mainland.

But there are privately owned engines who still do work, engines such as Molly the Strong Engine. Molly was owned by Sodor Royal Forces, otherwise known as the S.R.F. and had been doing work there ever since the second world war. She was the only female engine to go to France during the first world war and the only female engine to work for a military. This confused some people and engines, wondering on how they would let Molly work for them. But the generals who ran the Sudrian military had been told by her predecessor that she was a hard worker and wouldn't make a mistake. He was correct, since Molly had only one incident whilst working for the military with cows derailing her coal trucks when she was taking them to the base.

But she still had her haters and Emily would have been on the top of everyone who despised the strong engine. Female engines were considered during Emily's time to be weaker and more dramatic with doing the dirty work and all the things the railways had put in Emily were firmly wedged in. So, when Molly came to Sodor to work that seemed to be the most obscure thing for a female engine to do, Emily took a disliking to her as she first heard her name. Molly followed on suit and now whenever you see them, they would be arguing, or the atmosphere would become tense or awkward for any other engine or human.

Both hated each other with a fierce passion, and the other engines knew that it wasn't going to change anytime soon.

One day, Molly was taking a train of fuel tankers back to the base at the outskirts of Vicarstown. She had not been out for a while and was enjoying herself immensely. But she then had to stop at a signal at Killdane and who else was there, was Nelson the Electric Engine, talking to Emily the Emerald Engine.

Emily sniffed at Molly as the strong engine came to a stop outside the station. Nelson immediately didn't want to be there. "Oh, so I see the military decided to take you out of your little pen," sneered Emily.

Molly scoffed. "Says you," she retorted, "I haven't seen you go out of Vicarstown since the 1950s. Did you have to get Derek to shunt you here, if not, I'm guessing you'd be out of service for the next decade with how delicate you are!"

Emily wheeshed steam angrily. "Delicate?!" she said, "I'm-"

"Be quiet the pair of you," cut in Nelson, "passengers don't like it when engines argue. Emily your line is clear, now be off with you!"

Emily scowled, her guard blew the whistle and the emerald engine pulled out of the station with a huff. "Delicate indeed, delicate indeed," she mumbled as she puffed past Molly with her tourist train.

"How are you even friends with that spoiled stereotype," Molly asked crossly.

Nelson smirked. "She ain't that bad once you get to know her."

"Trust me," said Molly, "I've got to know her, and she doesn't know what a truck looks like from the way she acts."

Nelson laughed heartily. "Can't help you with that Molly," he replied "I'll see you next time!"

"Yeah," said Molly, "see you next time."

Molly was cross as she took her train to the fort. She was cross for the rest of the day she was still cross the next morning whilst at Vicarstown talking to James.

"Emily thinks she no female engine can do dirty work," she said angrily, "there's been many goods engines that are female and yet she picks on me!"

"She had a problem with Ava too y'know," sympathised James, "she only gets along with the stereotypical people, don't bother with her Molly, she's difficult but it's been going on for decades, besides the incident with her and the cow is sure to shut her up."

Molly chuckled, remembering the time when Emily thought she and another visiting engine could shoo away a cow, only for her to be scared by it instead. Just then, Emily bustled in with a smug look on her face.

"Keep that dirty object away from me dear James," she said accusingly at Molly who only snorted. "I need to look my best when entering the works."

"Don't call her a dirty object," snapped James, "if anything you're the dirty object."

"I swear you call Toby one though."

"That happened years ago," the red engine replied, "y'know Toby and I are good friends now."

"That's nice to know," said Emily, "anyways, I'm going to pull a train of enthusiasts tomorrow-"

"That's all you do now whilst dozing in the sun," muttered Molly under her breath.

Emily just ignored the strong engine's comment. "They are very important," she continued, "so I'm having a repaint today so to look my finest."

"Splendid," said James, "good luck then."

"I will be, I'll look like a pearl," Emily gleamed, then she glanced over at Molly, "then again, that would be an understatement next to her."

Molly wheeshed steam. "Then why don't you go to works already then," she retorted, "they might have to sew up your mouth to make you a so-called 'pearl'."

Emily huffed indignantly. "My mouth doesn't need to be sewed up! Unlike you, I always look beautiful, never dirty, never grimy." And before the two engines could say anything, Emily puffed out of the yards, with her smug face returning. James and Molly looked at each other. "We need to make a plan," said James finally.

"Why?" asked Molly.

"Y'know why," sniffed James, "she needs to be taught a lesson, it's disgusting the way she treats you!"

Molly snorted, but she couldn't help but blush through her dirty cheeks. "I'm not taking part with your little scheme," she stated.

"Why though?" asked James.

"You can do it, I don't mind you teaching her a lesson," chuckled Molly lightly, "but that stirling single will be in for a surprise tomorrow."

She then puffed off back to the base, leaving a red engine in confusion, but he soon snapped out of it to think on what to do with paying Emily out.

It was morning when Emily came into the yards behind the big station. Pullman coaches were ordered for the guests Emily's owner had arranged and the emerald engine was now dozing with her new paintwork shining in the cool, morning sun. She remained there for quite some time, until it lunchtime when she was being prepared by her crew.

Just then, the yard foreman strode up to them.

"Hello," called Emily's driver, "what's the matter."

"I need you to come to my office driver," said the foreman, "the owner for your engine is on the phone."

The driver left with the foreman, leaving Emily and her fireman confused. He soon came back with news. "James has apparently ran out of steam when coming back here to collect his next train," announced Emily's driver, "Sir Charles Hatt asks the owner if we can use Emily for pulling the train instead."

Emily spluttered indignantly. "Me?!" she exclaimed, "pull trucks?! I won't!"

"You have no other choice," says the driver.

"What about my special train?"

"James will come and take it instead."

"But why is the train so urgent?"

"Because the S.R.F.'s engine is out of service for today and James was supposed to take a shipment of coal to the fort instead of her for today."

"Coal trucks?!"

Emily was so curious that she wouldn't steam properly and after many persuasions by the crew, the workmen and the foreman, the emerald engine finally moved out of the depot. But she did so late that the foreman had ordered Emily not to turn around so to delay the train. This made Emily fume and when she found the grimy trucks, she gave them the biggest bump the trucks had ever felt.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" the screamed in their silly way.

"Don't fuse now, come along," said Emily, "I just had a repaint and I won't have it ruin by dirty little things."

The trucks were insulted. "Dirty little things," cried one.

"We'll show her, we'll show her," said another confidently, they all began to plot their tricks whilst Emily stormed out of the yard tender first with a train of angry trucks rattling behind her.

Whilst Emily was puffing along and reached Thomas' junction, James puffed past her light engine. He found hilarious.

"Make sure to stay clean!" he joked.

This Emily crosser than ever, this made her rough ride and suddenly, the trucks gave her a sharp bump. The bump made coal and soot spill out of the trucks, some landing in front of Emily. Emily was surprised.

"Stop it," she shouted but only the giggling of the trucks replied.

She soon came to Crosby and her driver noticed the signal was red at the station. Emily had to stop, but she braked to hard and the sudden jerk made coal and soot spill out of the trucks once more. This made the trucks laugh even more as Emily's boiler and huge splasher was now cover in coal soot. Passengers looked in wonder as Emily sat on the through line with coal soot laying calmly on top of her. The emerald engine felt very embarrassed and wanted to leave immediately but her driver wouldn't let her with the signal against them.

Bear soon growled into the station and once the signal dropped, Emily started off as quickly as she dared. Throughout her trip along the mainline, the trucks bumped and laughed at Emily. The emerald engine didn't look like she had a new coat at all.

"I feel like I'm owned by British Railways!" she moped, whilst another layer of coal soot fell on top of her as she stopped on a passing loop line so to allow another engine through.

"Don't worry girl," soothed his driver, who was having the time of his life with pulling a goods train, "we over halfway, just one more station we need to past until we're at Vicarstown."

Just then, James the Red Engine rushed by with the pullman coaches full of enthusiasts, he peeped a happy whistle at Emily and was gone.

"Shame, that could've been you," called a truck.

"Don't think so," remarked another, "but we could help her change her paintwork so it would match her face!"

The trucks laughed and laughed. Emily bumped them hard as she left the loop, but coal dust just fell on her footplate.

She eventually arrived at Vicarstown, much to her relief, she didn't want to be seen by anyone with the state she was in. But there was Henry sitting with another goods train, waiting for a clear path back. He was surprised to see the state of Emily.

"You alright?" he asked the coal-covered engine as she moved away from the trucks.

"What does it look like?" snapped Emily angrily as she puffed past the perplexed green engine.

Suddenly, she looked over to some sidings to see James with the pullman coaches in one of them, whilst right next to him, Molly sat there, she looked like she had been recently washed with her blank coat shining in the sun whilst her plain white lettering and numbers sat on her tender clear as daylight once more.

James looked to see a grimy Emily sitting in awe at Molly.

"Hey Molly," he grinned, "who's the dirty and grimy engine over there."

"That's Emily didn't you know?"

"It can't be Emily," continued James pridefully, "Emily always looks beautiful and is never dirty, never grimy!"

Molly laughed when James winked at her, she all but knew it was all her red engine's doing. Emily on the meantime just puffed away in a fit and waited in a siding for someone to give her permission on going back to the sheds at Ballahoo Mansion. She wouldn't be making remark relating to dirt and grim anytime soon.


	16. Ep53: Surveys

**This is part of a saga that was really intended to be a two parter but I was like: Why not? And did this. I like to apologise for my recent absence on my stories, life has been getting in the way and I wanted to publish this saga as one on here. Anyways, here's the first saga in the Salvation Collection: **

**The Twelfth Engine - Part 1**

**1973**

More and more passengers were coming to the Fat Controller's railway, this meant more trains were needed, but the problem was that the other engines were very busy with their own work. This meant more coaches were added onto Gordon's express and he felt the strain, he even had Edward help him up his hill, which most engines would know Gordon was able to pull the express over with ease, even when having twenty coaches. But that day he had twenty-five, and with that, Gordon rumbled into Barrow-In-Furness very late indeed. The diesel who took over from the train sniffed as the big engine came in.

"You're late," he said crossly.

"You try and get twenty-five coaches moving," grunted Gordon.

"I need to make up your lost time!" snapped the diesel.

"As I said," continued Gordon, "I had to move twenty-five coaches. You won't have to pull that much with only taking seventeen of that much."

"Pooh!" snorted the diesel, "you steam engines are just old fashioned, just simply get a diesel to do your work and your controller will never have to deal with you rusty old kettles again!"

"Pah," said Gordon, "keep your fairy-tales up in your exhausts!"

He steamed off before a fuming diesel could reply. The passengers were cross with the delay, and complained to the Fat Controller about it. The poor stout gentleman had to deal with a barrage of letters all night. He decided to visit Gordon the next morning.

"Hullo Gordon," he greeted warmly, "I've seen complaints about the Wild Nor' Wester from many, many passengers, care to explain."

"Indeed I have sir," replied Gordon, "I'm afraid that too many coaches and passengers have been adding to my train frequently and I cannot pull them as well as I can with the usual twenty or seventeen."

The Fat Controller pondered for a second. "I guess I've forgotten your limits Gordon," he said at last, "I'll make sure to adjust the timetables for more passenger runs along the mainline."

"But sir," said Bear from nearby, "Gordon would be pulling the Wild Nor' Wester to and from the other side of the island, if anything he would only have one other, slow run for the rest of the day. And me and the others can't take the extra work, even Donald and Douglas wouldn't even be able to help us cope with the extra work after those new trains come in!"

"I have given that a thought Bear," the Fat Controller replied, "so I'll be trying to get a new engine before the summer season begins."

With a tip of the hat, he walked off to make arrangements, leaving Gordon and Bear to glance at each other with intrigued looks.

"A new engine," said Gordon grandly.

"Yeah," chuckled Bear, sounding quite relieved, "we hella need those at the moment! What do you think it'll be?"

Gordon sniffed. "Judging by this point in time," he said, "it'll be a diesel."

*

"It'll have to be a diesel," said the Fat Controller quietly, he looked around his office, no one else in their but himself, he mumbled something under his breath as he began to scan the papers of diesels on the other railway.

A sudden, hard knock came from the door. "Come in."

The door swung open and in came a tall, scrawny man. He had an angular nose, with pointy eyebrows, cheekbones were strong strong as steel (comparable to Duck's) and deep, green eyes came out of his thick glasses. He grinned broadly at the older man, his grey suit contrasted with the black to the Fat Controller's. He looked like he was in his early thirties.

"Hello father," greeted the younger man, "I see you're working harder as usual."

"Stephen," the Fat Controller sighed, "I thought you were still at Suddery."

"Well I had to see my old man!" chortled Stephen, "but mother said you didn't return home last night and was only wondering why?"

"Passenger complaints Stephen," replied the Fat Controller plainly, "they aren't best pleased with the yesterday's umm... longing delays."

Stephen chuckled. "Always have to pull out a pun," he said, he walked over to where the Fat Controller sat at his desk and toppled into the guest chair on the other side. "So what are you going to do then?"

"Get another engine of course!" said the Fat Controller, "the other engines cannot cope with the work as it is and it's obvious that railway will remain this busier in the coming future. I'm thinking of getting another one of Bear's class, they seem capable enough or maybe one of those Falcons."

"Father," cut in Stephen, the Fat Controller looked over to his son who was shaking his head.

"Perhaps you could get another steam engine!"

"Another steam engine?"

"That's what I said," nodded Stephen.

The Fat Controller pondered the thought of another steam engine, then shook his head, and went to scan the papers on his desk. "I'm sorry Stephen," he replied, "but diesels are much more cheaper to run and more sustainable."

"Sustainable for efficiency," Stephen added, "but not sustainable for the eye-catchers."

The Fat Controller looked up at Stephen once more and then put the paper down. His full attention was now on his son. "Go on."

"Well..." started Stephen, a hand going to the back of his neck, "Sodor gets a lot of tourism during the holiday seasons, and one of those reasons is to see the steam engines."

"...Yes...?"

"The books written by Reverend Awdry help with boost our passengers due to children wanting to see the engines from those stories," carried on Stephen, "when someone sees a railway, they immediately think of a steam locomotive, not a diesel, and I believe that we need to help keep that image with showing the world that steam engines aren't a dying breed of locomotive power. So, we should give another steam engine a chance to work again."

"I need an engine ready now Stephen."

"Then get one from a heritage railway or a preservation society!" exclaimed Stephen, "there's plenty of them and only a few engines are in the scrapyard that only need a quick tune up, a new coat of paint, and a few new parts and they're ready to go!"

The Fat Controller sighed. "A diesel is what the railway board want though," he said, as he leaned back into his chair, "but you'll need to prove that a steam engine is needed more than a diesel."

"Oh I can do that father."

"Alright," the Fat Controller began to smirk, "you shall have to do a survey on the Sudrian people and ask around to see if they prefer to see a steam engine, or a diesel engine."

Stephen's eyes widen and his back flew straight up off the backrest. "You're bluffing," he said, "I'm going to replace you soon and this is what I do, ask people around on which one is better! I'm not a surveyor!"

The Fat Controller chuckled. "You are now," he grinned, "besides, this will be easy for you! You did do geography so to run this railway after all."

"Well I-I-I..." Stephen trailed off and sighed bitterly, "what shall I do for it?"

"Ask around in the local streets!" smiled the Fat Controller, "make sure to give a good speech for the railway board and myself!"

Stephen nodded and got up from his chair and headed to the door, he stopped as he pressed onto the door handle. "Anything else?"

"Make sure Thomas doesn't shove Percy down the old lead mines whilst you're visiting Ffarquhar," called the Fat Controller, who had begun to return to his paper work.

"How did you-?"

"You always go and visit Toby afternoon on a Thursday," interrupted the Fat Controller, "I'm very good at surveying my children."

Stephen sighed. "You should always get some advice from other engines," and with that said, he gave a farewell to his father, and headed out of the office, leaving Charles to ponder on whether his son was right.

*

A week had gone by and by then, the engines on the mainline were exhausted, the Fat Controller had to get James the Red Engine to be put on full time passenger work. But goods work was still needed to be handled and Henry and Bear couldn't handle them on their own, so other arrangements were made for BoCo and the Scottish twins to help on whatever trains they were needed on. But they were needed on the branch lines and this didn't help none of the mainline engines all too much.

That evening, BoCo had to take a train of trucks to Tidmouth docks, he shunted them in one of the sidings and headed over to where Bear the Hydraulic Diesel stood near Cranky with his own train of flatbeds, ready for a ship to arrive.

"Hullo," called BoCo, as he came to a stop next to the other diesel.

"Hello BoCo," Bear replied, "how are you?"

"Same as you from what I can tell," chuckled BoCo, "exhausted, these mainline trains are making me and the twins more worn than ever, I don't know how long I'll cope 'till my engine fails!"

"Sorry about that," smiled Bear sympathetically.

"Don't be," replied BoCo, "it's not your fault and we're pretty much going through the same thing. You need all the help you can get!"

Suddenly, a bright blue car, pulled up. "Who's that?"asked Bear.

"That's Terry," said BoCo, "Stephen Hatt's car."

Then, the driver's door opened on the right side and out came the very man BoCo just mentioned. He looked around the place and landed on the two big diesels. The red-haired man began to walk up to them, BoCo and Bear glanced at each other.

"What's he doing here?" whispered BoCo.

"Don't ask me!" cried out Bear, "I didn't even know he had a car!"

"Hello you two," called Stephen, as he came to a stop in front of them, "I'm here to ask you question for my survey."

"A survey?"

"You mean you're examining something?"

"Well, kinda..." shrugged Stephen, "my father told me that I had to prove something to the board. So I've been asking around with locals and tourists on a particular question and I need your answers for it too. You both don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not sir!"

"Good! Now, I need your honest opinion, do you two think that another engine should be a diesel or steam engine on this railway?"

Both diesel engines looked perplexed by the question. "Odd question to ask sir," replied Bear.

Stephen chuckled lightly. "You're diesel engines," he said, "I thought getting your opinion might be helpful since you work with steam engines yourselves."

"Well... I don't sir," said BoCo, "it's quite a hard question to ask."

"Yeah," agreed Bear, "but if I must, I would go with steam engines."

Stephen smiled and wrote something in his notebook. "Excellent," he muttered, "what about you BoCo?"

"I'd go with Bear here sir," replied the big diesel, "steam engines are what keeps this railway alive and the books are still quite popular, even when Wilbert has decided to retire."

"It also gives the tourism in too!" Bear added quickly, "this railway wouldn't be as successful and busier from how many people trust us to get them to their destination!"

Stephen nodded, his eyes twinkling with triumph. "Thank you the pair of you," he said at last, as he folded his notebook back into his grey suit, you've been a great help!"

"Happy to help sir," said BoCo.

"Is this going to be common?" mused Bear.

Stephen paused for a split second, then gave a grin and a wink to the two diesels. "We shall wait and see."

*

"I did it," beamed Stephen.

"Yes you did," the Fat Controller said, a little surprised. Both men had just walked out of the meeting with the railway board. Stephen had given his father his assessment and the Fat Controller, once reading it, had accepted it. The assessment also struck something in the meeting too, and most of the members who were against the idea of another steam engine had now switched sides.

"Now we can go off and find another engine!" chimed Stephen.

The Fat Controller sighed, as he watched his son walk happily ahead. "Actually Stephen," he began, making his child spin his head around to his father. "I have to find an engine on my own... that means... without your help."

Stephen's jaw fell a little. "Why?" he demanded, "I helped you a lot! I did a survey for an entire week and a half! I should at least help find the steam engine!"

"It's up to me to decide Stephen," the Fat Controller sighed, "I would like you to help, but you must do your other work."

"What? Supervising staff and their performance?!"

"It's something I did too."

"For only about a few months," scoffed Stephen, "I'm thirty-one father, and if I'm being groomed to run these rails, these engines, I should-"

"I know! I know..." the Fat Controller, rubbed his forehead, then looked back at Stephen. He looked annoyed and offended. "I know you want to help, but the time isn't there yet," said Charles, "I need to do this on my own."

Stephen sighed, he looked down to the platform for a few seconds, then at the passenger train, sitting at the station next to the second platform. He finally glanced back at his father and nodded. "Alright father," he agreed, "but if you want any help, call me, I'll be at Suddery."

He began to walk around to the second platform and past his father who watched him with calm and relieved eyes. Then Stephen paused and turned back to look at his father. "Can I take the train freely?"

The Fat Controller chuckled. "You're a high-ranking member of the NWR, I think you'll be fine."

Stephen nodded, he readjusted his suit and continued to the coaches. The Fat Controller walked the opposite direction to his office so to look for another engine. A steam engine at that.

*

Gordon was dozing in the yards, when he shoes trodding over ballast, he opened a sleepy eye to see the Fat Controller walk towards him.

'Dam it Gordon,' thought the big engine, 'you promised not to oversleep again.'

But Gordon would be proved wrong as the Fat Controller halted in front of him. "Gordon listen," he began, "I've known you since you've first came here and my father had me in your footplate the week after I met you. I've seen you changed a lot and the stuff that happened in 1967 was very impressive."

"Thank you sir," replied Gordon proudly.

"My son has convinced me to buy another steam engine," continued the Fat Controller, "but I cannot get the right engine at the moment."

Gordon was puzzled. "But you could get an engine from the scrapyard sir," he said, "there's still plenty of them there."

"I know," said the Fat Controller, "but I need an engine to work now and all the engines on heritage railways aren't available or aren't the right engine. So, I need your advice."

Gordon thought for a few seconds, pondering on what to do in his controller's shoes, he then thought of something. "Perhaps go to London," he suggested, "there's bound to be some information there."

The Fat Controller nodded. "Perhaps," he said, "I'll see if I can go there."

*

It was arranged, and a few days later, the Fat Controller headed out to London on the Wild Nor' Wester. The engines didn't hear from him for days, but they were too busy to care. And unfortunately the day before they received a letter from him, a major occurrence happened on the mainline.

But I shan't say anymore, otherwise I'll spoil the next story!


	17. Ep54: Pacific Trials

**This is part of a saga that was really intended to be a two parter but I was like: Why not? And did this. I like to apologise for my recent absence on my stories, life has been getting in the way and I wanted to publish this saga as one on here. Anyways, here's the first saga in the Salvation Collection: **

**The Twelfth Engine - Part 1**

**1973**

More and more passengers were coming to the Fat Controller's railway, this meant more trains were needed, but the problem was that the other engines were very busy with their own work. This meant more coaches were added onto Gordon's express and he felt the strain, he even had Edward help him up his hill, which most engines would know Gordon was able to pull the express over with ease, even when having twenty coaches. But that day he had twenty-five, and with that, Gordon rumbled into Barrow-In-Furness very late indeed. The diesel who took over from the train sniffed as the big engine came in.

"You're late," he said crossly.

"You try and get twenty-five coaches moving," grunted Gordon.

"I need to make up your lost time!" snapped the diesel.

"As I said," continued Gordon, "I had to move twenty-five coaches. You won't have to pull that much with only taking seventeen of that much."

"Pooh!" snorted the diesel, "you steam engines are just old fashioned, just simply get a diesel to do your work and your controller will never have to deal with you rusty old kettles again!"

"Pah," said Gordon, "keep your fairy-tales up in your exhausts!"

He steamed off before a fuming diesel could reply. The passengers were cross with the delay, and complained to the Fat Controller about it. The poor stout gentleman had to deal with a barrage of letters all night. He decided to visit Gordon the next morning.

"Hullo Gordon," he greeted warmly, "I've seen complaints about the Wild Nor' Wester from many, many passengers, care to explain."

"Indeed I have sir," replied Gordon, "I'm afraid that too many coaches and passengers have been adding to my train frequently and I cannot pull them as well as I can with the usual twenty or seventeen."

The Fat Controller pondered for a second. "I guess I've forgotten your limits Gordon," he said at last, "I'll make sure to adjust the timetables for more passenger runs along the mainline."

"But sir," said Bear from nearby, "Gordon would be pulling the Wild Nor' Wester to and from the other side of the island, if anything he would only have one other, slow run for the rest of the day. And me and the others can't take the extra work, even Donald and Douglas wouldn't even be able to help us cope with the extra work after those new trains come in!"

"I have given that a thought Bear," the Fat Controller replied, "so I'll be trying to get a new engine before the summer season begins."

With a tip of the hat, he walked off to make arrangements, leaving Gordon and Bear to glance at each other with intrigued looks.

"A new engine," said Gordon grandly.

"Yeah," chuckled Bear, sounding quite relieved, "we hella need those at the moment! What do you think it'll be?"

Gordon sniffed. "Judging by this point in time," he said, "it'll be a diesel."

*

"It'll have to be a diesel," said the Fat Controller quietly, he looked around his office, no one else in their but himself, he mumbled something under his breath as he began to scan the papers of diesels on the other railway.

A sudden, hard knock came from the door. "Come in."

The door swung open and in came a tall, scrawny man. He had an angular nose, with pointy eyebrows, cheekbones were strong strong as steel (comparable to Duck's) and deep, green eyes came out of his thick glasses. He grinned broadly at the older man, his grey suit contrasted with the black to the Fat Controller's. He looked like he was in his early thirties.

"Hello father," greeted the younger man, "I see you're working harder as usual."

"Stephen," the Fat Controller sighed, "I thought you were still at Suddery."

"Well I had to see my old man!" chortled Stephen, "but mother said you didn't return home last night and was only wondering why?"

"Passenger complaints Stephen," replied the Fat Controller plainly, "they aren't best pleased with the yesterday's umm... longing delays."

Stephen chuckled. "Always have to pull out a pun," he said, he walked over to where the Fat Controller sat at his desk and toppled into the guest chair on the other side. "So what are you going to do then?"

"Get another engine of course!" said the Fat Controller, "the other engines cannot cope with the work as it is and it's obvious that railway will remain this busier in the coming future. I'm thinking of getting another one of Bear's class, they seem capable enough or maybe one of those Falcons."

"Father," cut in Stephen, the Fat Controller looked over to his son who was shaking his head.

"Perhaps you could get another steam engine!"

"Another steam engine?"

"That's what I said," nodded Stephen.

The Fat Controller pondered the thought of another steam engine, then shook his head, and went to scan the papers on his desk. "I'm sorry Stephen," he replied, "but diesels are much more cheaper to run and more sustainable."

"Sustainable for efficiency," Stephen added, "but not sustainable for the eye-catchers."

The Fat Controller looked up at Stephen once more and then put the paper down. His full attention was now on his son. "Go on."

"Well..." started Stephen, a hand going to the back of his neck, "Sodor gets a lot of tourism during the holiday seasons, and one of those reasons is to see the steam engines."

"...Yes...?"

"The books written by Reverend Awdry help with boost our passengers due to children wanting to see the engines from those stories," carried on Stephen, "when someone sees a railway, they immediately think of a steam locomotive, not a diesel, and I believe that we need to help keep that image with showing the world that steam engines aren't a dying breed of locomotive power. So, we should give another steam engine a chance to work again."

"I need an engine ready now Stephen."

"Then get one from a heritage railway or a preservation society!" exclaimed Stephen, "there's plenty of them and only a few engines are in the scrapyard that only need a quick tune up, a new coat of paint, and a few new parts and they're ready to go!"

The Fat Controller sighed. "A diesel is what the railway board want though," he said, as he leaned back into his chair, "but you'll need to prove that a steam engine is needed more than a diesel."

"Oh I can do that father."

"Alright," the Fat Controller began to smirk, "you shall have to do a survey on the Sudrian people and ask around to see if they prefer to see a steam engine, or a diesel engine."

Stephen's eyes widen and his back flew straight up off the backrest. "You're bluffing," he said, "I'm going to replace you soon and this is what I do, ask people around on which one is better! I'm not a surveyor!"

The Fat Controller chuckled. "You are now," he grinned, "besides, this will be easy for you! You did do geography so to run this railway after all."

"Well I-I-I..." Stephen trailed off and sighed bitterly, "what shall I do for it?"

"Ask around in the local streets!" smiled the Fat Controller, "make sure to give a good speech for the railway board and myself!"

Stephen nodded and got up from his chair and headed to the door, he stopped as he pressed onto the door handle. "Anything else?"

"Make sure Thomas doesn't shove Percy down the old lead mines whilst you're visiting Ffarquhar," called the Fat Controller, who had begun to return to his paper work.

"How did you-?"

"You always go and visit Toby afternoon on a Thursday," interrupted the Fat Controller, "I'm very good at surveying my children."

Stephen sighed. "You should always get some advice from other engines," and with that said, he gave a farewell to his father, and headed out of the office, leaving Charles to ponder on whether his son was right.

*

A week had gone by and by then, the engines on the mainline were exhausted, the Fat Controller had to get James the Red Engine to be put on full time passenger work. But goods work was still needed to be handled and Henry and Bear couldn't handle them on their own, so other arrangements were made for BoCo and the Scottish twins to help on whatever trains they were needed on. But they were needed on the branch lines and this didn't help none of the mainline engines all too much.

That evening, BoCo had to take a train of trucks to Tidmouth docks, he shunted them in one of the sidings and headed over to where Bear the Hydraulic Diesel stood near Cranky with his own train of flatbeds, ready for a ship to arrive.

"Hullo," called BoCo, as he came to a stop next to the other diesel.

"Hello BoCo," Bear replied, "how are you?"

"Same as you from what I can tell," chuckled BoCo, "exhausted, these mainline trains are making me and the twins more worn than ever, I don't know how long I'll cope 'till my engine fails!"

"Sorry about that," smiled Bear sympathetically.

"Don't be," replied BoCo, "it's not your fault and we're pretty much going through the same thing. You need all the help you can get!"

Suddenly, a bright blue car, pulled up. "Who's that?"asked Bear.

"That's Terry," said BoCo, "Stephen Hatt's car."

Then, the driver's door opened on the right side and out came the very man BoCo just mentioned. He looked around the place and landed on the two big diesels. The red-haired man began to walk up to them, BoCo and Bear glanced at each other.

"What's he doing here?" whispered BoCo.

"Don't ask me!" cried out Bear, "I didn't even know he had a car!"

"Hello you two," called Stephen, as he came to a stop in front of them, "I'm here to ask you question for my survey."

"A survey?"

"You mean you're examining something?"

"Well, kinda..." shrugged Stephen, "my father told me that I had to prove something to the board. So I've been asking around with locals and tourists on a particular question and I need your answers for it too. You both don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not sir!"

"Good! Now, I need your honest opinion, do you two think that another engine should be a diesel or steam engine on this railway?"

Both diesel engines looked perplexed by the question. "Odd question to ask sir," replied Bear.

Stephen chuckled lightly. "You're diesel engines," he said, "I thought getting your opinion might be helpful since you work with steam engines yourselves."

"Well... I don't sir," said BoCo, "it's quite a hard question to ask."

"Yeah," agreed Bear, "but if I must, I would go with steam engines."

Stephen smiled and wrote something in his notebook. "Excellent," he muttered, "what about you BoCo?"

"I'd go with Bear here sir," replied the big diesel, "steam engines are what keeps this railway alive and the books are still quite popular, even when Wilbert has decided to retire."

"It also gives the tourism in too!" Bear added quickly, "this railway wouldn't be as successful and busier from how many people trust us to get them to their destination!"

Stephen nodded, his eyes twinkling with triumph. "Thank you the pair of you," he said at last, as he folded his notebook back into his grey suit, you've been a great help!"

"Happy to help sir," said BoCo.

"Is this going to be common?" mused Bear.

Stephen paused for a split second, then gave a grin and a wink to the two diesels. "We shall wait and see."

*

"I did it," beamed Stephen.

"Yes you did," the Fat Controller said, a little surprised. Both men had just walked out of the meeting with the railway board. Stephen had given his father his assessment and the Fat Controller, once reading it, had accepted it. The assessment also struck something in the meeting too, and most of the members who were against the idea of another steam engine had now switched sides.

"Now we can go off and find another engine!" chimed Stephen.

The Fat Controller sighed, as he watched his son walk happily ahead. "Actually Stephen," he began, making his child spin his head around to his father. "I have to find an engine on my own... that means... without your help."

Stephen's jaw fell a little. "Why?" he demanded, "I helped you a lot! I did a survey for an entire week and a half! I should at least help find the steam engine!"

"It's up to me to decide Stephen," the Fat Controller sighed, "I would like you to help, but you must do your other work."

"What? Supervising staff and their performance?!"

"It's something I did too."

"For only about a few months," scoffed Stephen, "I'm thirty-one father, and if I'm being groomed to run these rails, these engines, I should-"

"I know! I know..." the Fat Controller, rubbed his forehead, then looked back at Stephen. He looked annoyed and offended. "I know you want to help, but the time isn't there yet," said Charles, "I need to do this on my own."

Stephen sighed, he looked down to the platform for a few seconds, then at the passenger train, sitting at the station next to the second platform. He finally glanced back at his father and nodded. "Alright father," he agreed, "but if you want any help, call me, I'll be at Suddery."

He began to walk around to the second platform and past his father who watched him with calm and relieved eyes. Then Stephen paused and turned back to look at his father. "Can I take the train freely?"

The Fat Controller chuckled. "You're a high-ranking member of the NWR, I think you'll be fine."

Stephen nodded, he readjusted his suit and continued to the coaches. The Fat Controller walked the opposite direction to his office so to look for another engine. A steam engine at that.

*

Gordon was dozing in the yards, when he shoes trodding over ballast, he opened a sleepy eye to see the Fat Controller walk towards him.

'Dam it Gordon,' thought the big engine, 'you promised not to oversleep again.'

But Gordon would be proved wrong as the Fat Controller halted in front of him. "Gordon listen," he began, "I've known you since you've first came here and my father had me in your footplate the week after I met you. I've seen you changed a lot and the stuff that happened in 1967 was very impressive."

"Thank you sir," replied Gordon proudly.

"My son has convinced me to buy another steam engine," continued the Fat Controller, "but I cannot get the right engine at the moment."

Gordon was puzzled. "But you could get an engine from the scrapyard sir," he said, "there's still plenty of them there."

"I know," said the Fat Controller, "but I need an engine to work now and all the engines on heritage railways aren't available or aren't the right engine. So, I need your advice."

Gordon thought for a few seconds, pondering on what to do in his controller's shoes, he then thought of something. "Perhaps go to London," he suggested, "there's bound to be some information there."

The Fat Controller nodded. "Perhaps," he said, "I'll see if I can go there."

*

It was arranged, and a few days later, the Fat Controller headed out to London on the Wild Nor' Wester. The engines didn't hear from him for days, but they were too busy to care. And unfortunately the day before they received a letter from him, a major occurrence happened on the mainline.

But I shan't say anymore, otherwise I'll spoil the next story!


	18. Ep55: Bear South

**The Twelfth Engine - Part 3**

All three of the blue engines were still at the works being mended, so the inspectors had to change a few things on the lines they would've run on. Thomas' branch line manage to cope without it's main engine, and Douglas, who was going to work on the mainline after bank-holiday, was kept on Edward's branch line to do the blue engine's duties. As for the mainline itself, since no other engine could be able to pull the express, with permission by the Fat Controller who was still in London looking for an engine, they had loaned a diesel engine from the mainland to pull the express. He was a BR class 55 and only had a number, the engines couldn't properly remember it but his number began with 55, and that was what he was called, because Eagle didn't bother saying his full number and the other mainline engines heard it and it stuck with the class 55.

Henry said to me it reminded him of two engines back when the railway was beginning and what I've heard of him, I couldn't agree more. 55 was a pompous and rude, one of those stereotypical diesels who wanted to degrade steam engines no matter what. And would cause countless arguments in the night. The engines were glad when he would leave the sheds. One morning, 55 had made the engines very cross, Oliver spend the night at the sheds and 55 had heard about his 'escape'. I would leave it there myself but it was one of the worse arguments with James being brutal as possible and Bear ordering him to shut up.

The hydraulic diesel was being fuelled up nearby, when Oliver pulled up alongside with already picking up his coaches. "Thanks for trying to shut up 55," he said.

Bear grinned. "Don't worry about it," he said, "happy to help!"

Just then, the inspector arrived. "I've been sent a letter from Sir Charles Hatt," he said, "he has found an engine."

"Oh," said Oliver curiously, "what class is it?"

"I don't know," replied the inspector, "all I know that it's actually in London in storage and an engine is needing to go there with the Wild Nor' Wester today."

"Today?" exclaimed Bear, "but who'll take it?"

"You will Bear," replied the inspector, "controller's orders."

"M-Me? But why?"

"You're the fastest diesel on the island," said the inspector, "and BoCo is needed here, I'm sorry, but Sir Charles Hatt did specifically asked you to go."

He left, leaving Bear quite perplexed, Oliver smiled encouragingly. "Go on Bear," he said, "you can do it, "the Fat Controller chose you specifically to go to London."

Bear knew orders from the Fat Controller means that he would have to do it with no other options unless the stout gentleman said so. So he revved his engine and growled away towards the station.

55 was fuming when he saw Bear backing down onto his coaches.

"Don't know why they have a dirty diesel pull coaches for the highest class," he said snootily, "it's uneconomical."

"I don't think you understand what 'uneconomical' means," Bear replied crossly, "besides I need to go to London, you don't, that is all."

55 said no more, as Bear headed out of the station towards Barrow-In-Furness.

He rattled down the line, making quick progress. He stopped at the works station and then carried on to Barrow, he was quickly refuelled with a tanker sitting next to him on the platform with either Splatter or Dodge.

He rolled out of the station and headed towards new, foreign territory. He hadn't gone Barrow ever since joining the railway and was a little nervous, his driver reassured him as he went past the station buildings and travelled through the British countryside. A sense of nostalgia came flooding into him, but he wasn't all too frilled by it. He stopped at a few stations along the way. Stopping at Manchester first, travel another few miles until reaching the city of Leicester, then finally stopping at Nottingham, the last stop until St. Pancreas. Bear then remembered the time Gordon told him he wanted to go to King's Cross to prove an engine wrong about the station being changed, but then realised he had gone to St. Pancreas and had a long talk with the Fat Controller about it with the engine who tricked Gordon into thinking they demolished King's Cross and replaced it for St. Pancreas.

Bear could't exactly remember the name Gordon kept saying, something beginning with 'r'. He'd have to ask Gordon when he gets back. At last the guard blew his whistle, and Bear, tooting his horn, pulled the train out of the station and towards London.

He finally saw London up ahead, and smiled, he was beginning to feel tired from running down the English lines and was glad to have a proper rest. He arrived at London, later than the usual service, but still felt satisfied. A shunter came to take his coaches, and the hydraulic diesel set off to be refuelled, he would take the returning express service tomorrow with the new engine the Fat Controller had brought.

He came into one of the yards in London and glanced around. "Thank goodness I wasn't directed off the wrong line," he muttered, suddenly, he heard a toot of the horn and heard a purring diesel come towards him. A very dirty diesel came idling up alongside the hydraulic diesel.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't D7101."

Bear was shocked to see the diesel become someone he recognised all too well. "D199," he murmured, "what are you doing here."

"Got sent here to do goods work a year ago," scoffed the diesel.

"H-How did you recognise me?"

"Heard about your little appearance in that little book... well I saw some of it," said D199, "and guess what! I was in it too! I'm a disgrace now!"

"Sorry," shrugged Bear (if he could shrug at all), "but you did that to yourself really."

"I didn't chose to be called Spamcan."

Bear tried not smirk when he heard that. "People really call you that now?"

Spamcan gritted his teeth. "Don't you dare mock me... Bear," he said venomously, "you failed on that day too, you were only chosen cause you were a failed class."

"Rubbish," scoffed Bear defensively, "my class is still in working order to this day and you know it, I do believe their time will come but until then, you just keep your mouth shut."

Spamcan growled furiously. "Well... why are you hear then?" he asked.

"None of your business," said Bear crossly, and he fumed off, leaving Spamcan to watch him go with a glaring sneer planted on his face.

Bear was soon notified that he'll be heading off to King's Cross. "We'll be leaving there with the express tomorrow lad," stated his driver, and apparently there's a surprise in the yards over there."

Bear was curious by that, but said nothing as he moved off to the yards near King's Cross. It was a little complicated getting there, but he finally found where he was heading and as his driver was at his back cab he finally arrived at the yards safely.

And there, standing in one of the sidings, with workmen standing around it, was a steam, tender engine the Fat Controller had promised. It was sizzling nicely where it stood, it had a rather unusual square cab, with four big driving wheels and it cylinder had plunged into the middle of it's footplate. An early BR crest was painted on her tender and the cab showed it's number reading: 62886.

The shape it had was too iconic for Bear to not know what she was now. "You're an Atlantic engine," he grinned broadly, "one of some to only have one gender in their class."

The Atlantic engine smiled at Bear, even though, Bear saw it to be a little fake. "Yes I am," she affirmed, "I'm an Great Northern C1."

"Oh, so you're from one of the railways before they were merged into the LNER," said Bear, trying to get her into a conversation."

"Yes... indeed I am," said the Atlantic engine.

Just then, they heard a man rushing up to them both. Bear sighed with relief as a man with a top hat came hurrying up to him. He put his hands on his knees and panted for breath. It took an awkwardly long while until reposed himself and looked proudly at Bear with his cheeks still flush in the early evening sun. "Glad you were able to make it Bear," he beamed, "and I see you've met Alice, our newest addition to our fleet!"

"Yes I have sir," replied Bear, "she's perfect for the mainline in my opinion, Atlantic engines can hold their own against Doncaster pacifics."

"Indeed they can," beamed the Fat Controller, he then turned to see Alice wheeshing steam nicely, "I found her in London by a few people who were able to give me documents on engines and she was being stored in a shed nearby here, she was brought by a preservation society but they couldn't hold enough money and were only able to get her out and about only a few times and had to do an overhaul last year to her, the manager has stated she would be most likely be in top condition and suggest we give her a few tests before running trains on Sodor."

He then turned back to Bear, "this is where you come in."

"Me sir?"

"You'll be her back engine for the return train to Tidmouth," he said grandly, "you'll be helping her when she runs her test to Sodor."

"So... I will help when she breaks down or something?"

"Not entirely," chuckled the Fat Controller, "you'll be helping a bit in a few stages of the journey, but when she does break down we'll need you to mmhmm... growl to life."

He then tipped his hat, and walked away. Bear sighed, he was expecting a double-header, but he knew that Alice needed to be tested and this would be her only chance with Gordon out of action for the time-being.

Alice looked apologetically at the hydraulic diesel, but Bear dismissed her sympathy. "It's fine," he said, "at least I will have a much easier trip!"

"I hope I won't be an entire nuisance for you if I break down," sighed Alice hopefully, "I've only steamed occasionally you know and I've only ran along rails on my twice since I've been preserved."

"Ahhh, don't worry about it," reassured Bear, "besides... it's not the first time I've had to take a failed engine and it's passenger train the rest of the way." He trailed off remembering his first days of being a North Western engine.

"Sir Topham Hatt has been ever so kind," continued Alice sweetly, "he's promised me many things, such as long distance runs, with fast passenger services on your mainline, he was very stressed for two days when I was being inspected, then being steamed up and tested. He was practically jumping for joy when it was successful."

Bear smiled kindly. "I'm sure you'll do fine," he said nicely.

Alice smiled back at Bear. "Thank you," she said.

Bear rolled away, leaving the new engine to continue to be wheesh steam in her siding. The hydraulic diesel backed into a shed later that evening, a diesel from that shed would be taking the returning express and would return to London with the train so that he and Alice could take it back to Sodor again.

But there next to him, was Spamcan. He sneered at Bear as he growled into the shed. "Thought you would be gone," he said.

"I thought you would be pleasant by now," said Bear fiercely, "now shut up and stop pestering me."

"Oh, but I know about that steam engine," said Spamcan, "a friendly diesel told me if you're asking, guess your controller is still stubborn about that railway."

Bear was surprised and cross. "Our controller is a very nice man," he stated, "he gave me a second chance because I tried, you didn't because you moaned for a fitter and proved the steam engine's that they were much more worthy of running the railway than you are."

Spamcan was furious, he said no more, but when Bear began to go to sleep, he could sense that what he said would have his old acquaintance trying to pay him out. And I'm sorry to say he was right...

Bear woke up the next day, he gave a mighty yawn. His driver soon arrived and was just coming out of the sheds, when there was a sudden clank, and a curse from a diesel at the front. The hydraulic diesel gaped and his driver applied his brakes. He came to a stop and looked on at the set of points, in where a 'Peak' class diesel had derailed over. The diesel was cursing and moaning loudly whilst his driver told him to shut up with him off the line and on the points, Bear and another two diesels were trapped.

"Botheration!" cried Bear angrily, and his engine growled in agreement.

A few minutes had past, and Bear's driver came running back to him. "Bad news I'm afraid," he said gloomily, "the points have been damaged and need to be repaired before you go over them, I'm afraid we can't go back to London anytime soon I'm afraid lad."

Bear growled crossly, this was the last thing he needed, he knew that Alice couldn't be able to move without him unless another diesel does it, and he didn't want to spend anymore time with that Spamcan.

Something struck Bear in his mind and looked back along the track next to him. Sure enough, Spamcan was no where in sight. Bear growled even more loudly than ever, a nearby diesel's eyes widen and looked the other way nervously, hoping not to be verbally attacked by the hydraulic diesel. "I think I know the cause of this," Bear grumbled.

An hour later, the Fat Controller came to see Bear. The derailed diesel was being put back onto the rails and new equipment came to replace the damaged points. "Don't worry Bear," smiled the Fat Controller warmly, "it wasn't your fault, the sleepers must've collapsed under the diesel's weight. I will need to head back to Sodor right away and I prefer it if Alice comes along too with a replacement diesel. Thomas has been repaired now and Edward is near completion, but Gordon is still idle in the workshop and Alice is needed more than ever on the mainline with the diesel I loaned apparently getting worn out."

Bear sighed. "Yes sir, I understand sir."

The Fat Controller nodded and tipped his hat to Bear.

Bear remained in the shed for the entire day. He slept through most of it, but when he was awake, he felt very bored. He spoke to other two diesels who were also trapped by the points. They were pleasant, and their views on steam engines were unsure, but Bear understood why, most diesels had been taught by older diesels on how to treat steam engines wrongly. Bear gave them the best talking to about the engines on the North Western on how steam engines are brutal to each other. They're rude, sulky and selfish, but show compassion and kindness when they need to be.

"Sounds like a family to me," said one of the diesels.

Bear sniggered. "Yeah," he said, "they're kinda are."

It was morning when Bear was able to get out of the shed and was very pleased. He was quickly assigned a passenger service and he rushed out of London as quickly as he could. Of course, it took most of the day to get to Sodor alone. He was halfway there and the passenger service was going to end at Leicester, with him taking a goods train three-quarters of an hour later. But when he got to Leicester station, he saw the Wild Nor' Wester at the platform, with a diesel fuming at the front.

"55?" he said, as the hydraulic diesel growled past him.

"Yes it's me," replied 55 snootily,

"But... what are you doing here?" asked Bear, as he came to a stop, trying to stay close to the diesel as possible.

"I've been sent away of course," scoffed 55 crossly, "another diesel arrived at your main terminus with your new steam engine and your worth Sir Topham Hatt declared he would be put on trial! Let's just say the other engines were not pleased by this."

Bear pondered who it could be, then, as he finally left the station to shunt his coaches, an awful realisation came into his exhaust. "Oh god, please not be him," he murmured to himself, "anyone but him!"

He quickly got his goods train together and finally reached Barrow-In-Furness, where his train would carry on to Scotland. Splatter and Dodge were there in their little shed, they looked at Bear with confused expressions.

"Hey listen bud," said Splatter, "but you're late."

"Late?" quizzed Bear, "how?"

"Well... uhhhh..."

"Shut up Splatter," sneered Dodge, "otherwise the readers will think we're idiots."

"Readers?" Bear stared.

"..."

"..."

"Okay I'll just go."

"Yeah!" called Splatter triumphantly, "you better run!"

"You half-wit! He can beat us in a heartbeat!"

"But we don't half heartbeats!"

"FIGURE OF SPEECH MORON!!!"

Bear refuelled for one last time for getting home and headed light engine back to the big station, with 55 now gone, never to be seen again, who was this diesel engine who was now on trial. Bear was fearing the worse. He got to the yards, it was dark now and the moon was just behind the houses in Tidmouth. Bear went on the turntable to be turned and headed straight to the sheds. He tooted his horn one final time for the day's travels.

"Keep it down Grizzly Bear, you'll wake the residents up, we wouldn't want that now. Would we?"

Bear's engine sank, he backed into the shed, the others were there, Henry next to him, then James, and then Douglas and then it was Alice, but the diesel who was sitting at the other end of the shed was none other than Diesel 199. Spamcan.

Spamcan grinned a devious grin at Bear and Henry. "What's the troubled faces?" he all but said for the rest of the night.


	19. Ep56: Payback

**The Twelfth Engine - Part 4**

"I find it absurd!"

"We all do James," Edward sighed gravely, "but with Gordon being overhauled it's only option."

"But the Fat Controller had 55! Then he let him head back to the mainland and showed us this... Spamcan to be working alongside us once more!" exclaimed James, "he says he's giving him a second chance, but everyone should know that that diesel shouldn't even be trusted."

Edward smiled kindly at the troubled red engine. "He is still rude," he noted carefully, "but he doesn't seem to be making any remarks about us steam engines."

"At the moment," mumbled James, "he's still blunt, I'm keeping my headlamps glued on towards him let me tell you."

The guard blew his whistle, and James pulled out of the station, still grumbling about the returned diesel.

It had been a fortnight since Bear had went to London to collect the new engine, the engines thought them both would come back together. But had a tremendous shock to find Spamcan push the new engine into their sheds.

Spamcan, had seemed to have persuaded the Fat Controller to have him come back on another trial and none of the engines liked it one bit. The Fat Controller had to give them a talk to the next morning after he, the diesel and the new engine had came from London, the engines were still weary, but stayed silent towards Spamcan. Henry and James were finding it the hardest. Henry wanted to tease the diesel to pieces, whilst James wanted to rant at him for hours.

Alice, who was the new engine, was doing well on Sodor, she was in good condition to help with the summer work, and a proper inspection would take place after the season ended and the traffic had calmed down, and would also be getting a repaint from being in BR black for so long. The other engines liked her lot, even Thomas, who was quite cold towards female engines, found her quite nice to talk to, heck Eagle swore he saw the tank engine flirting with her at his junction when he past with his mainline goods!

Edward and James were a little worried about Henry's opinion with her, with the main factor that Bertram Hatt wanted thought he would be a male Atlantic, but James found them to be laughing with each other at the depot like old friends. I personally don't see how they thought there was something going on between the two but they both turned out to be very good friends.

In fact with all of this whole information about Alice, you might be having a question stuck in your head. You see, Alice was the North Western's first official female steam engine and the other engines were pleased about Sir Charles' choice.

You see, Sir Bertram Topham Hatt, the first Fat Controller, was a sexist. He didn't like female engines working on his railway, if you must've known he stopped making coffee-pots because out of three of them two were female. And with Emily before she retired and Lily whilst she was still around, they both were given Sir Bertram's... similar treatment to Henry when he first arrived on Sodor.

Alice was like the angel to the Sudrian rails in the many opinions of the engines when she came, she probably still holds that title to this day! She had nice, dark, chocolate eyes, with freckles dotting all over her cheeks, thick eyebrows too, with her expression making her always look motherly. What made the engines gape ever more was the beauty spot at the bottom of her left cheek. She was immaculate.

Spamcan was ugly.

Evil snake-like eyes with venomous yellow in them, as well as a gruff expression plastered on his face. The Fat Controller had his reasons to give Spamcan another chance, but most of it was still a mystery to us. Don't get me wrong, he apparently was a very nice man, but the engines just understand why he didn't just keep the previous diesel instead of having Spamcan be put on another trial.

A while later from talking with Edward, James arrived back at the big station with his stopping service, he wasn't in the best of spirits. Oliver was at the Little Western's platform, the western engine was a guaranteed-connection with James and noticed the red engine's annoyed face.

"Hello James, what's up with you?" he asked curiously.

"Urrrrgh, not a good day Oliver," replied James, "trucks were troublesome as ever when I went to Vicarstown this morning, and when I met Molly... let's just say it didn't go well."

"You both had another fight again, didn't you?"

"Well... yeeeah."

Oliver sighed. "You both have been with each other since what? After the first world war? I'm sure you both are fine!"

"After the second world war Oliver," corrected James, "but I'm just having problems at the moment."

"You haven't told Molly?"

"No... no I haven't," sighed the red engine, "it's a very personal matter I have to do on my own."

"But I'm sure she won't mind," said Oliver, "I've only met her once, but she seemed like quite the strong engine who can handle anything."

"Yeah... maybe," sighed James doubtfully, "but guess who was smirking his yellow little arse around me and Molly?"

"Spamcan?"

"Yep! When Molly stormed off, he was just lurking nearby and had that ugly grin plastered on his face! I know what he was bloody thinking and I just wanted to just plough him into the sea at the rolling bridge! But with the Fat Controller saying we can't touch him or even-- aaaaauuuurrrgh."

"Well..." chuckled Oliver lightly, "if you want to rant about that Spamcan, you can join Donald and Douglas, the two did talk about suspicious things about Bear when he first arrived, but with Spamcan, you don't want to know what they're saying about him!"

James smirked, he knew Donald and Douglas were put on Little Western on purpose so not to encounter Spamcan as much, the Fat Controller had a feeling that the pair would've squashed or pulled Spamcan to pieces the minute they saw him.

Soon, Oliver had to leave, he said farewell to James and was off back up his line. James shunted his own coaches into the carriage shed and headed off to the small depot. He headed along the light engine track, which lead the engines behind the station building to their small depot and the sheds just behind the large building. Alice the Atlantic Engine was resting in there already, she had been turned on the turntable and was facing the opposite direction to the red engine. James bustled up alongside her. "Afternoon Alice," he greeted.

"Hello James," smiled Alice kindly, "I wasn't expecting to see you."

"Timetable said so," replied the red engine, a little bluntly unintentionally.

Both engines began to chat with each other about the past, present and future. Half an hour later, they heard a toot of a horn, James groaned crossly and Alice looked up along the track, she saw Spamcan come in with a snooty look. She didn't like him either, he was rough when taking her to the station back in London, and she had heard what he had done previously from Henry. She didn't like the sound of it one bit.

Spamcan stopped near them both with a grin covering his face. "Dear oh dear," he said, glaring at James, "what happened back at Vicarstown dear James?"

James clenched his teeth. Alice looked between the two engines, puzzled. Spamcan didn't seem to notice and ventured further.

"Looks like Molly doesn't seem to appreciate you anymore," he said, "guess you had to go over to the new girl as the replacement then!"

"Oh sod off you--"

"James!" Alice cut in, "you know that language isn't allowed."

"Well he isn't just going to get away with something as vile as that!" fumed James, and then started pouring insults at the ugly diesel. Spamcan filed back too and a heated argument arose.

An inspector came to stop the racket and ordered them to stay where they were until the Fat Controller could arrive. The stout gentleman did and was most annoyed with what he heard from James and from Spamcan and ordered both to stay away from each other for the rest of the day and for the next. Both agreed it was the best choice.

*

"And you could've kept your anger down!"

"You would've defend her if you were there Henry," retorted James, "it's not like you can control your temper as well as mine!"

"Both of just shut up," Bear ordered, "you both aren't helping the situation with arguing. The Fat Controller has gotten complaints from residents about James' curses and he's investigating the matter with witnesses."

"Thank you Bear," said a familiar voice.

The engines jumped and glanced to the ground to see the Fat Controller standing sternly in front of them.

"As you all know... our number four is still in his delayed overhaul," he announced, "I was originally going to have him take a special Pullman service to Vicarstown, where he would then be taken to Crovan's Gate Works to have his overhaul he so desperately needs, but it seems that on bank-holiday he had to go in anyways."

The engines were intrigued. "Do you mean that one of us will have to pull this... Pullman train sir?" asked Henry, intrigued.

The Fat Controller nodded. "Indeed," he said, "and I have chosen who it will be, after all his hard work with doing almost double the amount of goods traffic whilst James and Alice take care of the Wild Nor' Wester, and going to London to collect the latter who is now working proudly on our rails, I think that Bear would be a fine choice to pull the train."

Bear beamed proudly. "Thank you sir, I promise you I won't fail."

The Fat Controller smiled kindly at him. "I know you will Bear," he replied, "the train will arrive in two days and the rest of you have your normal jobs to do, goodnight."

The stout gentleman left with a tip of his hat. Bear beamed whilst Alice congratulated him. James and Henry were jealous, but couldn't deny Bear had been working his hardest. But Spamcan looked furious as an angry bee.

"I should've gotten the train," he declared, later when the sun finally disappeared and the moon shone up above the town, "would've made my trial more... trying."

"You haven't been 'trying' that much ever since you've banged up here," Henry sneered.

"Watch it you-" Spamcan cut off and just growled crossly at Henry and went to sleep. James scoffed with the short and abrupt ending of an argument and followed the stupid diesel to sleep.

*

The next two days were uneventful, trains ran to time and news about Gordon was slim, even though the Fat Controller would oddly refer to him as 'our number four' and encouraged the other engines to do the same until he got out of the works. But throughout the days, James would see Spamcan talking to his driver, the red engine found it rather suspicious.

The morning of Bear's special service came, and the hydraulic diesel sad purring outside humbly, whilst cleaners and workers fussed all over him. James watched in envy from outside the sheds, Alice was at the coaling plant in front of the sheds and Spamcan dosed in front of Henry, who was behind him in the sheds, also getting remainders of his sleep.

Everything seemed pretty normal, until woke up with a start, he felt steam trickling into cylinders. "Whut...?" he said, still blinking from waking up suddenly. His wheels then began to move, the groaning of metal made the big green engine realise what was happening. He tried to stop, but he couldn't without his control lever being on and not on his driver's. He called out, alerting everyone to look and see him with bellowing steam, heading towards Spamcan. Immediately, workman and engine's crews started to run after him, Henry was only going slow, but the men weren't fast enough. Henry hit the back of Spamcan. The diesel hold him whilst Henry's driver came to apply the brakes. Henry's driver got out of his cab and clambered down, whilst Spamcan groaned in what James thought was over-exaggerated agony.

"What happened?" he demanded, cross that his engine had an incident.

"Dunno," said a worker, "maybe, you left the brakes off?"

"Paah," snorted Henry, "that's ridiculous, I hadn't moved one inch this morning and my brakes were fine during the night!"

Everyone was very puzzled, but they had little time to think about it now, Bear was still needed to be attended too and Spamcan needed to take the express. The diesel headed off, with Bear following him to the station. Alice, Henry and James were all alone in the yards with the workmen heading to do other jobs or lay around the staff quarters.

Just then, Alice's driver called to his engine whilst inspecting her. "Looks like you have a lose screw," he called, "better fix that otherwise your cylinder lining will go."

"Indeed," agreed Alice, "excuse me, Henry, do you know where your crew put the tool box!"

"Should be back in the sheds," called the green engine, "best you go inside the sheds to do what you need to do."

With a blast of his whistle, Henry puffed off to the harbour to collect his fast goods. Alice didn't have to take any passenger trains until much later, Donald had took the first passenger train of the day, with the Wild Nor' Wester following and the special service Bear would come next, then normal services would carry on. Alice back up into her birth she slept in from last night, coming to a holt from within, her driver let her cool off, they had plenty of time, it was a quiet day for passenger services and she would go to collect her passenger train in the next hour and a half.

Whilst Alice's driver was inspecting his engine, and his fireman was reading a magazine. Alice glances around her new surroundings. She liked it here, it was nice and warm instead of the warehouse she was kept in for all those years in London. She then glanced to each birth the engines slept in from last night, then glanced at the side of the sheds, she paused. something odd sat against the brick wall on the other side of the sheds. She narrowed her eyes at it, it looked like a diesel part.

"Mark," she called and told him what was there, her driver went over and inspected the part.

"Definitely looks like a diesel part," he said, "don't know what it's for. I'll call in James' crew, see what they think."

They did so, they knew it was where all the other diesel cleaning and servicing material would be, but they hadn't seen it there last night. James hadn't either when asked. Eventually, the crews had nothing more to say and Alice, with getting proper checks and all, headed out of the sheds once more. But as she was about to pass James, she instantly stopped, realising something.

"Oh no," she whispered.

James looked over to the Atlantic engine. "What's the matter?" he asked.

"That diesel was sitting there last night," Alice explained.

James raised an eyebrow for a moment, then everything seemed to click all together. The odd quietness from Spamcan, him talking quietly to his driver and only to his driver and the him being at the corner of that shed. Not too mention thinking about what was on the timetable in his head further backed it up.

The red engine finally knew what was up. "That disgusting diesel," he muttered under his breath, "he's purposely going to fail his engine so he can cause a crash on the mainline."

Alice glanced at James, shocked at what she had just heard. "What? But why would he do that?"

"Isn't it obvious, he hates the island and this railway," said James crossly, "I bet his driver turn Henry's brakes off and his regulator on so he would bump into Spamcan. That would make it seem it's Henry's fault with having faulty controls and would be blamed once he crashes with the Wild Nor' Wester."

Alice wheeshed steam, even she was fuming at such a vile thing. "An engine going to that length, killing innocent people just for a grudge," she stated, "it's so... so... indignant!"

"...wouldn't really call it that Alice, that's pretty much an understatement," said James.

"Never mind that James," said Alice dismissively, "we've got to tell the Fat Controller!"

"He won't believe us," said James, "with what happened at the depot a few days ago, I don't think he'd believe what we've figured out."

"It seems the whole world is against us then," sighed Alice.

"I wouldn't say that," smiled James, "besides, I've known engines who have faced bigger threats than us."

"Then what else should we do?"

"We must stop it ourselves," declared James.

Alice blinked, a little startled by what he had just said. James grinned. "I think I know where he would strike," he said, "as long as he doesn't do anything in his run to Barrow, he might fail someplace down the mainline in his way back, and it would be too late for Bear to stop in time. That's what I think anyways."

"Do you have a plan then?"

"Well..." said James, "thinking currently."

"I might though," called James' driver, who he and the rest of their crews had been listening intently to the conversation, "now listen carefully, and we might be able to stop that smelly old diesel and his insane driver."

Both engines listened carefully, and once the driver had finished, Alice's driver put in a few more tricks and parts to polish the plan and after that, the two engines puffed off to collect their trains. Confident grins across their faces.

James had to take a slow goods to Vicarstown, stopping at every station to pick up and set down trucks. James hated slow goods trains, but today, he didn't mind, because his and Alice's drivers had a plan in which at one of the stations, James the Red Engine needed to talk to another bright red engine.

Eagle was organising James' trucks as the red engine came into his yard. "Morning James," called the midland engine, as said engine came up next to Eagle, "your trucks are just behind me."

"Thanks Eagle," replied James, he observed Eagle carefully. He looked exhausted, cheeks red as his paintwork, soot all over his face, with his pointy nose the most grimiest of them all. "Say, I was wondering if I could ask you something."

"Go ahead mate," encouraged Eagle.

"I was going to head back to Tidmouth light engine so to take my passenger service," James explained, "but I know you've got to take a train down the mainline."

Eagle sighed. "My weekly slow goods I'm afraid," he said grimly, "it did have to taken on my busiest week." He then paused, now figuring what James meant. "I thought you had another goods train to head back to Tidmouth today?"

"Ahhh, that train," said James, "it got cancelled, last minute change of plan."

"I see..." said Eagle curiously, "so... you want to take the slow goods for me then?"

"Indeed I do."

"You? Wanting to take a slow goods train?"

"Do you want me to help you or not?!"

"Fine! Fine!" said Eagle defensively, "take the goods train. Thanks... I guess."

"Don't mention it," said James, as he watched as Eagle puffed off. He smiled slyly to himself a few moments, now knowing that the plan was going well.

*

Alice was at Crovan's Gate station, she was dropping passengers off for the Skarloey engines, then a porter came up to her driver. "James is being let through with his slow goods, remain here until he clears the line after going through Henry's Tunnel."

"Righto," nodded the driver. A few minutes later, James came puffing casually through, abnormally smirking.

"Plan is going swish," he puffed to Alice as he rattled by. The Atlantic engine smiled at that.

James soon arrived at Vicarstown, heading through the station, over the points and into the yards. He looked around the yard and saw Bear at the depot, he smiled eagerly. The red engine soon pulled up to the hydraulic diesel.

"Morning Bear," he said, "how was your run."

"Splendid James, cheers for asking!" grinned Bear.

"Have you heard about Eagle?" asked James politely.

"No? What about him?" said Bear, looking concerned.

"He's being overworked this week and might not be able to catch break, especially with his slow goods he takes on the mainline."

Bear sighed. "Don't scare me like that," he said, "I thought he crashed or something!"

James chuckled. "No, he's fine," he said, "but I offered to take his goods for him so he can catch a break."

Bear paused. "Don't you have a train to take back to Tidmouth?"

"Well... yeah," admitted James.

The hydraulic diesel groaned. "What about your goods train?"

"I don't know!" exclaimed the red engine, "get another engine to take it! I'm just trying to help Eagle."

James puffed off in a huff to get more coal, leaving a perplexed Bear behind. Soon, the yard master heard of the new arrangement. He found it annoying and was cross with James, but had no say in the matter, Eagle had gone to the harbour at Kirk Ronan to shunt there before heading back to his proper work. No other say in the matter, the yard master ordered James to wait for the remainder of the slow goods train before heading out. James only smirked.

With no actual available engine to take his train, he'd know which engine would have to take it.

*

Spamcan watched carefully, as Alice came up to the water tower at Barrow. She had just brought in her a connection to another train heading up to Glasgow and felt pleased with herself. But she remained quiet as she didn't want to converse with the oily diesel near her.

Her crew promised to remain close to her though, which made her feel better. There was silence first, only the steam going around Alice's pipes could be heard. At last Spamcan finally spoke. "You'd be expecting that number four will come back into service," he stated, "but he won't be heading out of those works for long, once I'm permanently brought, he won't be used as express engine, I haven't been taken off that train at all, so your Sir Topham Hatt is obviously wanting me to replace him."

"Right..." said Alice, not sure why he would think that when she was brought over a fortnight ago.

"I'm clean and modern," Spamcan continued, "no wonder Fat Hatt gave me a second chance."

Suddenly, the yard foreman came walking up to the two engines. "Sorry to interrupt your monologue," he said rudely, "but there's been a change of plan. That ruddy James has decided to take The Soaring Eagle's mainline freight, leaving his returning fast goods without an engine. I've been told that D199 is to take the train."

Spamcan's jaw dropped. "Me?!" he exclaimed, "but why can't that new engine do it?"

"If you're wondering," said Alice sternly, "I've only got here, and I need to refuel."

"Besides, Sir Topham Hatt has given me strict orders that Alice isn't to pull goods trains until she's able to learn how to run them," said the yard foreman, "now be off with you!"

Spamcan's driver walked past the yard foreman, clambered back into Spamcan, and the diesel's engine roared into life. He growled at Alice and rolled off. The steam engine sighed in relief as Spamcan headed back to Vicarstown on Sodor.

"I'm guessing another engine is going to be loaned to be pulled the returning express?" she says sweetly.

"Well... not really," said the yard foreman, Alice raised a brow puzzled.

*

"Ruddy steam kettles," sneered Spamcan, "that burning, disgusting red engine. I swear when I get my buffers on him."

He entered the Vicarstown goods yard, still fuming, then he looked up and saw James still in the yards with his paint gleaming in the summer skylight, Eagle's goods train sitting behind him, ready to go.

James was bragging to himself. "That stupid Spamcan diesel," he sniggered to himself, "dumb enough to be carelessly scheming near me. I am truly, a splendid, and dare I say it? A smart red engine!"

Spamcan fumed, his cheeks went red, now realising what James had done. The red engine, unfortunately, didn't hear the diesel stop near him, and continued to brag to himself. "His privileged bogie-wheel didn't see it coming," he chortled, "and now he'll be sent away, once our grand and clever Fat Controller finds out how rude he was near me and Alice. There's nothing he can't do!"

"What was that James?"

The red engine jumped, he looked from side-to-side, then glanced down and breathed a sigh of relief. His driver stood in front of him, arms folded. "Oh... well... sorry," said James, blushing red as his paintwork, his driver just sighed and shook his head. Luckily for Spamcan, the driver was on the other side of the red engine, so he didn't see Spamcan lurking behind.

"Just be careful not to swank yourself around with this... scheme!" he told his engine, "anyways, we can go now."

"Yeah," agreed James, but he couldn't help returning his smirk and chuckling, as his driver got back into his cab -- still not noticing Spamcan-- the guard blew his whistle, the signal became green and with an enthusiastic blow of his whistle, James took off like a rocket. Spamcan sat there, he growled, nashing his teeth, at the tail end of his train.

"I may not be able to have the plan I once had," he said crossly, his engine grumbling to him with having a sort of snitch to him throughout the day with the absence of an important part. "I can still make an accident fatal."

What he didn't realise, was that the trucks were in a sulky mood, the Norramby diesel, had been bumping them all the way to the yard. They were hoping for James, but to their horror, they saw Spamcan bump them, even harder than the previous oily diesel.

"These ice cubes don't know what they're doing," scowled a salt wagon.

"Aye," agreed another, "me wheels won't runnin' mouch longer if this carries on!"

"Then we all know what must be done," said an old, crude open wagon.

"Run him of the rails," a grey, dirty van grinned, showing chips and dents in his teeth.

The rest of the trucks all agreed. Spamcan could hear them, giggling to themselves and gave them a harsh bump.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" they all cried.

"Don't fuss around!" called Spamcan rudely, "I want you to behave!"

What he didn't know, was that he guaranteed the trucks to ruin his plan.

*

Spamcan was now running along the mainline, originally, the Norramby diesel was going to take his goods train back up to Norramby, but got delayed due to a fault in his engine, so Spamcan was ordered to go instead. He was coasting down the line at a thunderous rate, the trucks being bumped and bashed like toys being played with by a child.

The mainline had a section of three tracks that go all the way to Henry's Tunnel, it was there to cause less traffic with the Norramby branch line going along the mainline until coming after Henry's Tunnel. But Spamcan had the nasty idea to derail himself at the junction between the two mainlines that go together through the second tunnel, there without the signalman knowing, Alice would be cleared through and crash into Spamcan, or at the very least if no crash happened, Henry would still be blamed.

He was coasting down the down line nicely, but hadn't anticipated something to go wrong. The communications to the signalman at Henry's tunnel had began to become faulty just when the signalman at Vicarstown had told him about the changes. He had only gotten, that a goods train would be going down through the middle track, but he didn't get the fact it was Spamcan's and not the Norramby diesel. He thought it was wrong, and decided to change the points, from where an engine would be diverted from the middle track and onto the single track tunnel which the junction to switch onto the Norramby branch laid after going through the tunnel.

Spamcan was of coarse, unaware of this, and was speeding down the line at a tremendous rate, he clanked and his engine whined. The trucks clattered about like bouncing balls, but Spamcan didn't care. Henry's Tunnel came into sight.

'Super,' smirked Spamcan from inside his head, 'at least I'll get something.'

He was getting nearer and nearer to the tunnel, he was smirking uncontrollably, thinking about what would happen next. Then something else happened. He felt the swerve, hard. He almost got knocked over by the time he reached the other line and the trucks cried out in surprise. "What on earth," he cried out, with all of his confusion from daydreaming, the trucks had regained themselves before he did.

"GO ON! GO ON!" they screeched, and banging their buffers, shoved Spamcan through the tunnel.

"What are you doing?" cried Spamcan, his voice echoing in the tunnel.

"Teaching you a lesson ice cube!" called an elder truck, and the others laughed as they bashed and bumped Spamcan, making his driver go all over the place. Spamcan applied his brakes, but then another bump came and a loud crack came from Spamcan's engine.

The diesel gasped and yelped in agony, he reached the end of the tunnel, reentering the outside world, with the glaring hot sun beaming down at him like a spotlight. Spamcan rattled came towards the junction to where a set of points let to either the Norramby branch line, or would make Spamcan go over back to the mainline's down track. But the points were set for Norramby branch line and with curve being too strong to cope with Spamcan's speed, it was inevitable what would happen next.

*

Alice was already enjoying her run with the returning express service, but was surprised to see the distance signal up after going over the bridge back to Sodor. She soon got her answer at the station platform at Vicarstown when she came to a stop. The stationmaster was there with the Norramby diesel fuming and muttering under his breath as he toddled on past Alice backwards with his train, on his way to return to the yards. Alice was even more confused, she looked over to the signalman who seemed quite concerned.

"What has happened?" asked her driver from the cab.

"I'm afraid Diesel 199 has derailed at the junction between the mainline and the Norramby branch line," he explained, "the crash was so loud the signalman heard it from the other side and stopped all trains."

Alice sighed, that diesel would let up. But at least traffic had been halted so no engine could collide into him like he so desperately wanted to. "Any injured?" asked the driver.

"One casualty I'm afraid," replied the stationmaster grimly, "driver didn't make it out of the cab in time."

Something dropped inside Alice's boiler. She had heard many accidents have happened on Sodor, but the only worse one she could think was Henry's Flying Kipper in which he and Eagle explained Henry had gotten his jaw ripped off from the brake van's roof and some broken bones came from the crews and guard. But she had never heard of a man dying on the railway before.

A few minutes later, the stationmaster was told it was safe for the express to go on, but only on the up track. Alice did so, switching tracks and heading towards the accidents at a slower pace in which she was meant to go at.

She came to the tunnel and once exiting the two-way one, she saw the scene. Derek had arrived with the breakdown gang, and they were only starting to clear away the mess, but Spamcan was laying on his side, with black soot covering his exhaust like it had caught fire, and trucks piling on top of each other, all derailed.

Alice sighed sympathetically, she knew Spamcan would've wanted to cause a worse accident, but she couldn't help feeling sorry for him as she past by and going back onto the down track.

*

The news spread like wildfire, the death of a railway workman was very serious and it was now the first a man had died on the North Western Railway. An investigation was immediately conducted by the Fat Controller who put Stephen in charge.

Two days after the accident, when the mess had been cleaned up and the rails were being mended, James and Alice were ordered to stay in the yards for the morning. Stephen came up with a few inspectors, a stern look covering his face. "Alright, James and Alice," he spoke, "I heard you got into a row with D199 a few days before his accident."

"Yes sir," replied Alice.

"Well... I did only," James admitted, "Alice was just a standby."

"I see," said Stephen, writing notes down on his notepad, "we need to ask you some questions, some workmen have come forward, that they were seeing D199 and his driver as acting rather odd, two days before the accident, I'm not saying that you do have any information, but if you do, can you tell us please."

James paused for a moment, he had known Stephen since he was boy, and he knew Stephen trusted what he would say in these sort of situations. The red engine then gave a deep and heavy sigh and told Stephen all about the argument, him figuring out Spamcan's scheme and the trick in stopping Spamcan.

"I didn't expect he would still try to cause any damage to the railway after we stopped his main scheme," said James, "I didn't think your father would believe if I told him after that spat I had with... that diesel."

Stephen nodded. "I see," he said, "this has definitely gave us light on the accident, anymore information?"

"I was apart of it too sir," admitted Alice.

Stephen looked at Alice perplexed. "You Alice?" he said, "I thought with your track record this would be beneath you."

"I know sir," said Alice sadly, "but I knew something must've been done to stop him, even though he did damage anyways."

"I understand," nodded Stephen, "thank you, we'll be collecting that engine part from the shed now, see what part of the diesel's engine it was apart of."

He walked off with the inspectors in tow, either continuing to write notes, or speak with Stephen Hatt. James and Alice looked at each other.

"I'm sorry Alice," replied James, "I should've gotten you into this mess."

Alice smiled back at James. "It wasn't your fault," she said, "if I never told you about that missing part in the sheds, things could've been a lot worse and we're were only trying to prevent it."

"Yeah," James only said glumly, and set off to do take his stopping service down the mainline.

Alice only watched.

*

A few hours later, Alice pulled into Crovan's Gate with her own passenger service, on her way back from Vicarstown, she sizzled nicely at the station whilst boys came to take her number. Then, she heard another wheeshing of steam near the work's shed. She hadn't been in there yet, only been given check-ups until the 'number four' would come out, and with that sound of wheeshing steam, it made her remember her time when she was in King's Cross London. An LNER A1 it sounded like, to be perfectly honest, she had never heard of the books written on Sodor until a few weeks ago, and wasn't entirely sure of who was the number four.

She knew Thomas, Edward, Henry were the first three, and then it was James, Percy and Toby, who were five, six and seven, Duck who was the apparent eight, Donald and Douglas who pretty shone their numbers, nine and ten with pride and Oliver who was pretty much the number eleven, making her have the number twelve. But who was the number four?

Alice would get her answer within a few seconds later, as workmen came out of the workshops to watch as a steam engine came out tender first Alice was right, with the number being shoned proudly with white and red lining, it was the number four, with a fowler tender no doubt. The cab and boiler came into view, Alice gasped quietly, she was right about another thing, the engine's shape looked very much like an A1, but the footplate looked very odd to her. The engine was moving fully out of the shed, Alice would be able to see it's smoke box now--

A low whistle interrupted her thoughts. "Bother," she said, as she was forced to leave the station, not being able to catch the glimpse of the engine's face.

She continued down the mainline and soon arrived at Edward's station. The blue engine greeted her warmly. "How are you doing?" he asked, "Stephen pretty told me about the entire investigation."

"Does he have any results?"

"Sorry," smiled Edward, "but he doesn't, they've only decided this morning. But I do know D199 is going back to mainland this evening with our number four."

"What's his name by the way?" asked Alice curiously, "when I'm ever around you and the other engines just keep saying number four around, I mean, I know he's an LNER A1, they came out of the works backwards, didn't catch a glimpse of his face though."

Edward chuckled. "I think when they meet you, they'll lighten up your spirits very much," he said reassuringly, "anyways, I believe that's your guard's whistle back there, best get going!"

Alice whistled a goodbye and set off, Edward watched her go, smiling to himself.

*

Alice arrived back at the big station, she shunted her coaches quickly away and went over to where Bear was shunting Spamcan onto an evening goods train. The train would leave an hour after rush hour and Spamcan, being knocked unconscious, was going to be sent back to London for further investigation, and the fact the Fat Controller wanted him off his railway as soon as possible. His face had been covered up and was now facing an old van. The hydraulic diesel looked over to Alice and smiled.

"Don't worry," he said, "this matter is very complicated to myself."

"I know." There was an awkward silence, both Bear and Henry had heard about James' predictions about Spamcan's plan and found a bit too extreme to believe.

"Cheers for erm... stopping him making me a battering ram for his train," said Bear, "I honestly didn't know how bad he would turn out to be."

"Thank James and his crew," smiled Alice, "they were the ones who tried to stop him."

"Yeah well, best you go to the sheds," said Bear, "I'll come later."

Alice did so, with a friendly goodbye, she headed to the turntable. She was soon outside of her shed, getting the last of the warm sunlight, her crew her turned off her steam and went to the staff's hut for a bit before getting her cleaned up, she was on her own. Suddenly, Alice was interrupted by a booming, loud, and unfamiliar whistle. The Atlantic engine's eyes shot up by the sound and looked up towards the distance to see the exact same engine she saw at the work's station, backing down towards her. A dark but glossy blue livery shone in the orange sunlight and the number four came into view as the somewhat looking A1 came next to her. It braked gently and stopped right next to her.

"My, my, darling Alice," said a familiar voice, "never thought you would come to this chaotic island now."

Alice tensed up, she knew it all made sense now, the reason the Fat Controller and the engines only said number four around her, why he was rarely spoken of unless necessary and why she was left all on her own in front of the sheds. Gordon sizzled nicely beside her, a beaming smile covering his face.

"Heard all about the fiasco at the works!" he exclaimed, "when they said you were the engine to help me, I thought they were joking, evidently, I seemed to be naive!"

Alice gulped, still a little shocked from the finding her old friend, and a little silly to not figure out that he had gone off the face of the Earth to go to this small island. "I'm glad you didn't go for the moustache," she all but said, Gordon just laughed.

*

Gordon took Spamcan back to the mainland on a goods train, he returned later that night with a few cheers and James' whistle, since he was the only one in steam for taking his usual train at night. Gordon and Alice talked way into the night until dawn was first brewing up. Henry was glad when he left to pull the Flying Kipper!

Further and thorough investigation went into the accident and the only explanation control got was Spamcan's scheme to cause a major crash. They didn't want to believe, but it was the only one that made sense and it stuck out like a thumb with his track record also being reviewed. Spamcan then seemed to disappear from the eyes of the public once he got to London, but nobody thought otherwise, the engines on Sodor could come to one conclusion, scrap.

The Fat Controller wasn't best pleased on James and Alice not informing him on the matter and putting it into their own buffers, but didn't punish them, in fact, he ordered them new coats of paint. James just had the same, whilst Alice was finally given the paint she so desperately needed. Alice came out of the works a day after James with her original Great Northern livery, but had the number twelve on each side of her tender. She look immaculate and felt like finally belonged at last.

Alice now works on the mainline, taking special passenger services along the line, whether stopping services, guaranteed-connections, or an extra express train encase Gordon couldn't be able to handle the Wild Nor' Wester. She's a kind engine, with a sense of responsibility to help the others in distress and be supportive with them, she can be stern when wanting to, but only when engines are being rude or making others feel humiliated.

All the engines appreciate her working on the railway, especially Gordon, and Alice the Atlantic Engine does feel like she is the twelfth steam engine on the North Western Railway.


	20. Ep57: Poachers

**A/N: I want to apologise for how long I haven't updated this book. I did do many stories but just couldn't be bothered to put them on here. But now that this season is ending, I decided to put the stories I've written on here.**

**I don't do much stories for the Skarloey fleet and whilst on a walk at I spotted a deer and this story came in to mind. I hope you enjoy it! Because I really like it myself, I should probably do more with these characters if this is the case! Haha.**

**_1974_**

Winter was ending, and the cold, ice snow had finally melted away. The engines on the Skarloey Railway were pleased, this meant that more passengers could be able to come to their little railway and travel through the lakes and trees. Peter Sam, was the most happiest with passengers coming back to take their trains, and enjoyed bringing them home everyday, with the sun bringing it's heat back down to the earth.

With tourist attraction being most of the railway's income nowadays, the Thin Controller decided to purchase more coaches for trains to run along the line and plans were being made for stations to get a second track so more trains could run. All the engines were enjoying the new season and new plans for their railway, even Sir Handel, who was mainly pleased that more bogie coaches had come to the railway.

But of course, there was one particular engine who grumbled all about it.

"It's goona be hectac I tell yae," fumed Duncan, one dreary, foggy afternoon at the sheds. "I don't know why tha Thin Controller as deciding on making our line a tourist attraction for kids!"

"You should be grateful you're going to get work at all!" said Duke crossly, "tourism wasn't as big as thing back when my old line was suffering from passenger loss, and when the mines closed down, guess what happened?"

"It goot close down," muttered Duncan, "I've heard that story a thousand time ol' timer, I'll tell yae somethin', the Rheneas Slate Quarry is still aroond, and who's tae say we can't go up further into the mou'tains?"

"The Sodor Government have told us not to proceed to expand through the mountains unless necessary for work and employment," stated Skarloey, who was in his usual, wooden shed, hacking for support by the main, bricked one. "And besides, it'll give you work!"

"It'll give me more passengers," Duncan grumbled, "I'll be working harder than ever, I'll be takin' more trips up and doown the line and I'll be hearing those god awful shootin' in those woods."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Ya heard," snapped Duncan, "shootings in the Glennock woods when I stop there, y'know where the woods our? It's-"

"Past Glennock station," cut in Duke, "I think Skarloey knows his route, unlike you with your tongue."

Duncan sniffed and sauntered away. But Skarloey couldn't help but think about what Duncan had said at the end. He mentioned to the other that evening at the sheds.

"Shootings?" said Rheneas, "are you sure about that Duncan?"

"Aye, why wouldn't I be?" quizzed Duncan, "I know what I heard! With all that loud noise my funnel would've cracked!"

"Heh," sniggered Sir Handel, "I'd love to see that!"

"What da ya mean?!"

"Funnel cracked? Getting replaced by something less.. tall, perhaps you'll be able to listen properly for once in your life instead of wierd sounds bouncing through that stupid thing!"

"Yae a little--"

"Don't put out that foul language out here," scolded Rheneas.

"I did try to talk sense to him with his usage of his tongue," added Duke.

"Shameful," said Skarloey.

"What for, Duncan's fowl mouth, or the shootings?" asked Peter Sam.

"Both," said Skarloey grimly, "it's a shame that animals would get hurt in such ways."

"It's nature," admitted Rheneas, "man are on top of the food chain, and food must be provided to a population. But I do agree on the fact that they're hunting animals in our _woods_. It isn't right."

"How so?" asked Sir Handel, "you're basically contradicting yourself from what you previously said!"

"Glennock Woods is owned land," explained Rheneas, "owned by our Sir Handel Brown, he has given strict instructions to not have people go over onto his land to do hunting and has made it a nature reserve."

"So, isn't that poaching?" asked Peter Sam.

"Quite right Stuart," Duke said, he then puff crossly, "this whole ordeal would never suit his grace!"

"You and your grace," muttered Sir Handel, "listen, poachers might not think they have a choice! They might not have jobs and hunting and selling animals is their only way to make profit! And animals do reproduce like mankind, so they won't be going away anytime soon."

"Yae definitely had geography lessons," scoffed Duncan from under his breath.

The engines knew Sir Handel could have a valuable point, but Peter Sam felt what Sir Handel said was cruel and unfair.

The next morning, fog covered the land. Peter Sam was told to take the first train of the day, he obliged without fuss, he had forgotten all about last night's conversation and sung to the coaches as he collected them. They were the usual four, Agnes, Ruth, Jane and Jemima, with Beatrice as his brake van. Peter Sam brought the coaches into the platform, ran round his train and waited eagerly at the front for his passengers. All different types of people came strolling onto the platform, either going up to the hills for an early hike, or taking the train to go to work, or to see friends from along their little line.

Eventually, Peter Sam set off up the line, he sang to the coaches, who joined him. Peter Sam liked the foggy weather, he found it exciting! Rattling along the cold rails, with the fog blocking the distance from him. He was making good progress along the line, stopping at Cros-ny-Cuirn. Travelled through a bit of the grassy plains until reaching Glennock.

"We're doing great! We're doing great!" Peter Sam sank cheerfully, "the passengers will be shouting our praises at this rate!"

He set off once more towards the wooded areas of Glennock, the mist was still down and thick. The cold breeze blew into his face and gently sailed past his boiler. As he was travelling through the woods, the peace and quiet was suddenly interrupted by an awfully loud, piercing bang.

"What was that?" gasped Peter Sam, as a faint thud was heard from the distance. The driver stopped the train, whilst passenger all tittered quietly to each other and peaked their head out of their windows.

The driver blew Peter Sam's whistle, whilst the fireman ran towards the sounds, he disappeared through the fog. Peter Sam was worried for him, but thankfully his fireman came stomping back, an annoyed expression across his face.

"Did you see who did it?" asked the driver, concerned.

The fireman shook his head. "Only saw blood staining the grass when I got their and boots imprinted to the ground."

The driver cursed quietly to himself. Peter Sam knew what happened, he had now remember the conversation he had with the others last night and felt a little sick. Poachers.

Peter Sam took the train on to Rheneas station. There, his driver reported about the crime to the stationmaster.

Peter Sam felt depressed after the incident. It wasn't right, to go on private property, owned by their owner who wanted it to be a natural area where animals could live in peace. And people were thinking it alright to hunt there. He returned to the sheds at midday, the Thin Controller thought he made need a rest after the incident. Sir Handel was still in the sheds when Peter Sam came puffing back.

"Heard about what happened," said Sir Handel. Peter Sam said nothing. "Listen, there isn't much we can do about it, they aren't causing harm to us engines!"

"They're hurting animals Sir Handel!" protested Peter Sam, hurt by what his friend had said.

"Pah," Sir Handel snorted, "you're just soft, like I said, we engines aren't getting harmed and mankind just need to feed themselves, we're fine."

"I'm sure the deers, rabbits and foxes are pleased you're supporting them," scoffed Peter Sam.

Sir Handel just rolled his eyes and set off to the slate quarry at Rheneas.

Later that evening, the Thin Controller came rushing up to Peter Sam, his own crew trying to keep up to him. Once they got to the little engine, Peter Sam's fireman began to light his fire.

"Sir Handel's fire has dropped," explained the Thin Controller, "none of the other engines will be available to take him and his train back here, so I need you to head to the quarry and pick him up."

"Yes sir," peeped Peter Sam willingly.

A few minutes later, the little engine had plenty of steam and puffed quickly out of the sheds and towards the quarry. He was looking forward to seeing Sir Handel.

*

But when he got there, it was clear to him that Sir Handel wasn't so thrilled to see him. All the trucks were laughing at him. Peter Sam quickly got turned around and buffered up to the arrogant engine.

"About time," scoffed Sir Handel, "now quickly take me back to the sheds!"

"Yes ma'am," replied Peter Sam cheekily.

Sir Handel fumed as they quickly darted out of the quarry.

It was getting dark when they began to head into Glennock Woods, the evening was began to show and Skarloey would follow Peter Sam with the first returning workman's train in a few minutes. The trucks were running smoothly and Peter Sam was thankful Sir Handel was too!

Suddenly, as they were puffing through the deepest part of the woods, the two little engines heard a sharp bang. It sounded very much like the same sound Peter Sam had heard before. It was a gunshot. Peter Sam gasped and even Sir Handel tensed up at the sound. Peter Sam's driver applied the brakes once more, and then out of nowhere, came a darting, red fox.

Peter Sam manage to stop just before hitting the wimping animal.

"Goodness gracious me!" cried his driver, as he peaked out of the cab.

Then, another gunshot was heard, a sound of metal hitting metal was heard a moment after and Sir Handel wailed as a hole formed right in the centre of his funnel. The fox quickly darted around Peter Sam' other side as two, gruff, middle-aged men came running out of the trees with guns being held dangerously in their hands.

"Where did that pesk go?" muttered one, then he saw, Peter Sam, a wailing Sir Handel and two crews looking at him. "Did you see a fox running by yae?"

Peter Sam couldn't believe it. "How dare you!" he fumed, "you've just shot Sir Handel!"

"Yes!" wailed Sir Handel mournfully, "I've been shot! Please! I need help!"

"Not our business," said the other.

Peter Sam seethed. Suddenly, the fox poked his head out from Peter Sam's buffer beam.

"There is it Johnny!" cried the other man, and Johnny pointed his gun towards Peter Sam's buffer beam.

"HUUUUUUUUUUUSSHHHHHHH!!!"

Steam came out from one of Peter Sam's cylinders as went all over the two hunters who cried out in terror and began coughing and choking. Once the steam had died down, the hunters looked at Peter Sam furiously. "Why you little--" began Johnny, but was cut off by another let off of steam.

This time, Sir Handel's crew decided to head into the cloud of steam, they charged at the two hunters quickly disarming them from their guns. But the hunters refused to be defeated easily and a fighting match came on. Cora the brake van shuddered at the scene whilst the truck all tittered at it in excitement. Sir Handel was mourning his funnel, and the other crew was trying their best to break it up. Peter Sam looked to his other side and noticed that the fox had gone. He looked around frantically, hoping that it didn't get shot.

Just then, he heard a familiar whistle and Skarloey with the workman's return train came into sight, he stopped right in front of Cora. He whistled once more, but Sir Handel's crew and the hunters didn't noticed whilst Peter Sam's driver and fireman were trying their best to stop the fight. The workmen quickly got out of the coaches and rushed to stop the fighting. Once it was all over, the workmen hoisted the poacherss inside the coaches. And Sir Handel's crew were put inside Cora. Skarloey buffered up behind Peter Sam's train without saying anything and both working engines puffed off to the next station.

When they got there, the guard called for the police to come and collect the hunters at the next station. They did so, and the poachers were arrested with their guns being taken away. Peter Sam still felt worried about the fox though.

Once they arrived back at the station, Peter Sam shunted the trucks into one of the wharf's sidings and took Sir Handel back to the sheds. Peter Sam's crew went to check Sir Handel and they laughed out loud once they saw what was inside.

Peter Sam raised an eyebrow. "What is it?" he asked curiously.

"I've found the poacher's catch!" called his driver, as he looked back into Sir Handel's cab, "and it looks like it found a nice place to sleep in too!"

There, in the corner of Sir Handel's cab, was the fox. Curled up and sleeping quietly, with no injury at all. Peter Sam was over the moon, whilst Sir Handel wasn't best pleased with the results.

"My funnel has a hole in it!!" he cried, "a now a fox is in my cab! Oh the shame of it!"

"I'm sure your funnel is fine," said Peter Sam, "besides, isn't it suppose to have a hole?"

Sir Handel grunted and said no more, as both Skarloey and Peter Sam laughed.

*

The poachers were taken to court and were charged, after that, the Skarloey Railway hadn't had a single incident with poachers since. The fox was taken back to the nature reserve and would sometimes be seen, near the tracks when Peter Sam whistles on through.

Sir Handel on the other buffer doesn't think poaching is such a good idea now. He doesn't like his funnel getting bullet holes and doesn't want a scared animal to come into his cab and dump it's load in there again!


	21. Ep58: The Falling Eagle

**_1974_**

When tourists come to the North Western Railway, they have many questions about the books that the engines are featured in. With the retirement of Wilbert Awdry, the engines did feel like they had bigger responsibility on telling visitors about their railway and enjoyed telling children all about it.

But there were some questions engines get that they would find a little odd. One of them was from one of the pictures in the first book of the series. In The Sad Story of Henry, a red engine had appeared to push Henry, but looked exactly the same as James but instead of his black, it had red wheels instead. The engines would say they couldn't answer but only one engine could answer.

Edward was the only engine who knew the engine was in the picture, even though he knew it was James by accident, it had been known that James hadn't arrived until the dealership with the LMS, and that engine oddly looked like another who tried to push Henry out of the tunnel. His name was Eagle, the Midland Engine.

Eagle wasn't apart of the Fat Controller's railway. He was loaned engine, for a company who loaned all types of machines, cars, lorries, vans, even boats! But Eagle was their only engine they loaned out. It was for an experiment, to see whether a steam engine can be loaned source of income all time round but it was seen as nonviable. The company gave the drawings to the Furness Railway who made a few adjustments to the design so the design would become the D5 class, making Eagle the only engine of his class to be a mogul, just like James. Even the permanent loan engine experiment had failed, the Fat Director at the time found Eagle to be a hard worker and was quite fond of him and loaned him to stay, he did try to buy, but the company denied it and Eagle remained on loan and has been working on the Kirk Ronan branch line since the early 1920s.

He was very reliable, rarely getting into trouble, the most eventful thing that has happened to him was when he was chased by a rogue German plane back in the first world war and the time Henry crashed into the back of his returning goods train early in the morning with the Flying Kipper.

But no matter what, Eagle loves to work on Sodor and hoped it never changed.

Although, a month before the Easter holiday, Eagle came into Edward's station with his usual mainline slow goods, with a worried look across his face. Both engines were very good friends, they were actually the first two engines to have an proper friendship when they both came here and enjoyed each other's company and could tell what the engine's feelings were. So, Eagle didn't even bother hiding his feelings as he came into the station's yard.

Edward saw Eagle's face. "Dear me Eagle, what's the matter?" he asked.

"Oh, it's just the CEO of my company," he sighed, "he had a heart attack last night, he went to hospital in an ambulance, just don't know whether he'll make it."

"I see," said Edward, "well... I hope he get's better soon, do you know anything else?"

"No, not really," replied Eagle grimly.

"Hmmm," Edward pondered, "why don't you ask the Fat Controller? He's bound to know more information."

"It isn't the Fat Controller's right to tell me Edward," said Eagle, "he's not my controller."

"You are loan to him though," said Edward, "just try."

"Sorry Edward," Eagle sighed, "I just think it's impolite."

He quickly shunted his trucks onto his train and was on his way once more down the mainline. Edward sighed, but he knew what he had to do.

*

"So, I've heard BoCo's brake tender was sent to the works a few days ago."

"Indeed," replied Edward, "BoCo has been worrying a bit."

Gordon chuckled lightly. "BoCo is an example to us all," he said grandly, "shows his character, cares for others and shows the diesel stereotype is wrong."

"I agree with you without no hesitation," smiled Edward, "have you heard about Eagle's company?"

"Who hasn't?" said Gordon, "Alice told me once I got back, don't tell Eagle I said this, but I don't think his... CEO will make it through this night."

Edward looked stunned at Gordon's words. "How could you say that?" he said crossly, "you don't know."

"Oh, but I do know my dear Edward," said Gordon, "he's over seventy, I thought he would retire by now, but I guess not."

"We still don't know the facts."

"Edward," Gordon nearly cut in the blue engine's words as he spoke, "I've heard that man has not stopped working since his own father passed away in the thirties, and that'll would eventually take a tole on someone's body, especially at his age!"

"But he might've not have been working."

"From what I've heard, they found him at his work desk, writing!"

Edward groaned, he didn't like the sound of this one bit. They all had to cope with the passing of Sir Bertram Hatt, even though not all were as mournful as others, but Eagle was even closer to his owner, and knew if his owner died, Eagle would be distraught.

"I'm sorry Edward," said Gordon, "but, humans are different to us engines, we must let people live their lives until they're called upon by whatever takes them away."

The guard then blew his whistle and Gordon, with headlamps beaming into the night, puffed away, his long, heavy train in towe. Just then, the Fat Controller walked up to the blue engine, the man usually took Edward's train back to Wellsworth, where he would drive the rest of the way to his manor.

"I do apologise Edward," he said kindly, "but I was just eavesdropping your conversation with Gordon."

"You were sir?"

"I think I was," he then paused for a split second, "it doesn't look good for Mr Davis, he is currently being treated on, but there's not much the doctors can do."

"Oh," said Edward sadly, "I don't know what to say."

"It's indeed an unfortunate thing," sighed the Fat Controller, but the heart is too damaged, he would probably be saying goodbye to his family right now. He paused for a second, sighing mournfully at the thought of someone's passing. "Do not tell Eagle about this," he said sternly to Edward, "I know he is your friend but I think it's best if I tell him tomorrow morning in the sheds. Mr Davis will be gone by then."

"Will Mr Davis' son be taking over the business sir?" asked Edward.

The Fat Controller shook his head. "Sadly, he's in his first semester in university and is too young to look after the company," he said grimly, "one of the people in their board will become CEO in a few days after the passing of Mr Davis."

"I see," the blue engine responded, "do you who'll be the main candidate?"

The Fat Controller's frown deepened. "I'm afraid so," he said, "and it's not a good one I'm afraid."

Edward gulped as the Fat Controller continued. "His name is Mr Callum Keymans," he said, "I've only met him a couple of times and seems like a pleasant chap at first, but from some of the workers at the company, I'm afraid he's been called a pinch-penny, so it looks like the company may be struggling if he does get the promotion."

Just then, the guard blew his whistle and the signal above changed to green. The Fat Controller hurried to his coach and Edward moved off. But he couldn't help but worry about Eagle, he knew it would be a troubling time for him with his manager's death, but he was also worried about what that Mr Keymans was going to do with Eagle...

*

The Fat Controller was unfortunately true to his word. Mr Davis sadly didn't make it through that night and the newspapers covered over the specifics that morning. The Fat Controller went to visit Eagle at his shed to not only tell him the news, but to read a letter from Eagle's late manager. The midland engine wasn't seen for two days, Donald had to look after his branch line until Eagle got better.

He soon did, but the Fat Controller made sure to keep the Scottish Twin on the line, just in case Eagle couldn't steam properly.

A week had past and Edward was waiting patiently in his yard, he was expecting the mainline slow goods train Eagle would usually take. But when he heard a whistle, he knew it sounded nothing like his old friend's. Donald pulled in with a angry look on his face.

"I cannae believe it!" he said, before Edward could open his mouth, "it's unfair!"

"What's unfair?" asked Edward curiously.

"A week has just gone by after Eegal's manager has died, yet the new guy, Mr Keyman, thinks it's a groovy idea tae put Eegal out of servace until furtha' nootice! What a muckle nuisance I tell yae!"

Now, Edward was very worried. "Is Eagle alright?" he asked.

"Och! He wants to work, but he cannae do that until his company says so," replied Donald crossly, "the Fat Controller cannae do anything either cause of the contract he's signed! Stupid contract if yae tell me."

Edward knew what Donald meant about the contract. A new one was made after Henry's Flying Kipper accident and made Eagle very annoyed and confused by it. Part of it said that if Eagle was to run along the NWR, he will be maintained by their own company but will take him out of service if they want to until they say he could go back into it. It had never been used, but Edward now understood why. The contract lasted until 1985, and that seemed a bit too long for Mr Keyman, especially with the fact they needed to give him maintenance themselves! The blue engine knew they were planning to take Eagle out of service and scrap him.

"Oh dear, oh dear," he mourned sadly.

Donald knew Edward was troubled and gave him a apologetic look at him. Both he and Douglas were fond of Eagle and didn't want to go either. Suddenly, an idea bounced into his funnel and rattled around in his smokebox. "Tell yae what," he said, "you go to Tidmooth with my goods and I stay here until yae get back!"

"Oh, well... thank you Donald," Edward said kindly.

It was quickly arranged. Donald remained in the yard, whilst Edward took the slow goods to the big station at the end of the mainline.

He eventually arrived at the yard. He immediately informed a confused foreman to get the Fat Controller to come and speak with him at the depot. The yard foreman, still confused on why Edward had Donald's goods train, obliged and went to call the station.

Half an hour later, the Fat Controller came strolling up. Edward was expecting him to be very cross with him, though he did look stern, he didn't look as mad as the blue engine thought he would be.

"Edward," the Fat Controller greeted, "I'm guessing you've come up hear to tell me something urgent."

"Well... yes and no sir," replied Edward hesitantly, "it's about Eagle."

The blue engine then told his controller everything, by the end, the Fat Controller was looking very stern indeed. "I have predicted that is the reason myself Edward," he agreed, "Mr Keymans hasn't told me anything about why Eagle is shut up in the shed. But I promise you, I will get to the bottom of this and Eagle won't be scrapped. Not when he's running on my rails."

He tipped his hat, and left. Edward felt slightly assured after that!

*

Eagle remained in his shed, he hadn't been out for several days and longed it get out again. Suddenly, the doors flung opened, Eagle's eyes squinted from the bright, morning lights surrounding the dark sheds. Once his eyes adjusted, he looked down to see two, familiar men standing in front of him. One of them was the Fat Controller, the other was Mr Keyman.

"Morning Soaring Eagle," said Mr Keyman, standing tall, chin high up, even though Eagle was probably more than twice the size of him. "I'd like to ask you a question?"

Eagle blinked. "Well... erm... sure!" he said.

"There's no doubt about it that I'm going to have to withdraw you from service since you're too expensive to run and very unsustainable for the company," began Mr keyman, "but the Fat Controller wants to give you a proposition."

"A proposition?" echoed Eagle curiously.

"Indeed I do," smiled the Fat Controller, "if you'd like to stay here on your line, or want to even remain running at all, I'd like for you to work officially on my railway."

Eagle's eyes widen. "You mean, be apart of your railway? Forever?"

The Fat Controller nodded. "You have been working here for half a century Eagle," he smiled warmly, "my father has always seen you as a really useful engine and would've done the same thing, and I'm sure it's time for you to come into my fleet properly."

Eagle was giddy with excitement. He loved working for his loaning company, but had always wished to be apart of the North Western Railway properly. "I'd love to sir!" he exclaimed joyfully.

"Good," smiled the Fat Controller, "me and Mr Keyman will make the arr-"

"There won't be any arrangements Mr Hatt," cut in Mr Keyman sharply.

Both Eagle and the Fat Controller turned to look at the slim man in surprised. The Fat Controller cleared his throat. "You said that if Eagle agreed he would be sold to us," he said sternly.

"I never said that!" scoffed Mr Keyman, "I said that we could hear his opinion before I made a final statement on the matter! I'm sorry Mr Hatt but he won't be sold to you."

Mr Keyman walked out of the shed. The Fat Controller shook his head. "I do apologise about getting your hopes up Eagle," he said crossly, "but I was sure he was going to let me buy you."

"With all due respect sir," said Eagle, "but I think he was only making sure of what I wanted and didn't want."

The Fat Controller looked up at Eagle, one of his eyebrows raised up. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I'm afraid Mr Keyman holds a grudge on me sir," replied Eagle, "do you remember that incident back in 1962?"

"Indeed I do," sighed the Fat Controller, now understanding why Mr keyman wasn't wanting to sell Eagle to him. Back in 1962, Mr Keyman had barged an elderly man out of the way whilst getting in a train to the mainline, Eagle, who was late with his passenger service, saw this whilst coming into the platform and instantly knew who it was, since Mr Keyman was the newest member of the board. Nobody but Eagle saw it, but the midland engine still told the police inspectors on what he saw and Mr Keyman was charged. Mr Keyman was allowed on at the company, but was kept a close eye-on and was on the risk of being broke.

Mr Keyman blamed Eagle for the charges pressed onto him, and now wanted to get Eagle back, either being put up as an unfunded display at a park or simply scrapped!

The Fat Controller thought long and hard for a few seconds, then he smile, he had gotten an idea. "Do not fret Eagle," he said, "I'll get this sorted."

He tipped his hat, and walked off, closing the doors behind him. Eagle stayed in the darkness once more and sighed.

*

Mr Keyman walked towards the conference room at one of their headquarters at Peel Godred, there was apparently a meeting organise at the last minute with all the members of the board staying for a bit longer. It was odd to him that some even considered staying when they had to get a train. But as he opened the conference doors and saw everyone there, all ten members, five on each side of a table, an one man stood at one end of the table, furthest away from Mr Keyman which caught his eye and then everything was explained to him.

Sir Charles Topham Hatt smiled broadly at Mr Keyman. "Ahh, I see you're here Mr Keyman," he smiled, "good! We can get started then!"

Mr Keyman's face went a little red, he knew what was about to happen. He walked over to his chair and sat down on the other side of it. Charles began his presentation.

"As you maybe aware of now," he said, "that Eagle has been put out of service and be fully withdrawn within the coming future."

"Eagle?" said one of the members, clearly one of the newer, younger ones.

"He means The Soaring Eagle," said another member, clearly the eldest one out of them all. "The engine we loan to the North Western."

"Ahh yes," smiled another member warmly, "my daughter found him to be most intriguing when we came hear on holiday, poor darling cried her eyes out when we had to leave so we went to see him again for one last time!"

The members of the board chuckled. Mr Keyman's fist tightened.

"Yes, but what do you mean Mr Hatt with 'fully withdrawn within the coming future'?" asked a fourth member.

Mr Hatt paused. "I'm sorry," he said, "I thought you knew?"

"Knew what?" asked a fifth.

"...That Mr Keyman was planning your only steam engine was being withdrawn from service, either being put on display or scrapped."

A mumbling came from the members until the eldest member finally spoke. "How do you know this Mr Hatt?"

"He told me and your engine about it yesterday morning," replied Mr Hatt.

The members of the board turned to Mr Keyman who was glaring back at Mr Hatt. "Mr Keyman," said one of the members sternly, "why didn't you tell us?"

"I thought to send a letter for each of you later today," said Mr Keyman.

"Even so," said another elder member, "do you even remember the contract you signed when agreeing to becoming the CEO of this company?!"

"I do yes."

"Then explain to us why you thought of gallivanting off to take our steam engine out of service without us all agreeing to it!"

"Well, he's a steam engine Mr Jones, it's like taking one of our cars out of service," explained Mr Keyman, slightly nervous.

"I see that you don't get it," groaned another member, "he's our _only_ steam engine Mr Keyman, this similar to taking all of our cars out of service."

"Well it isn't really," chortled Mr Keyman.

"But this is a big deal," said the eldest member, "if we are to withdraw The Soaring Eagle from service, all of us in the board must have a say in it!"

"I see someone hasn't fully read the contract," smirked one of the younger members.

Mr Keyman glared at the member. "Don't speak to your boss like that," he ordered.

"And you don't ignore the agreements you signed within the contract Mr Keyman!" said another member.

"I'm sorry Mr Hatt," said one of the members, "but what was your proposal on our engine."

"I was hoping to buy him you see," said Mr Hatt, "since you all won't be needing him anymore, I might as well... take him for myself, so to speak."

Mr Keyman's left eye twitched, whilst the other members nodded and mumbled.

"This is very important for us Mr Hatt," said the eldest member loudly, "we'll need you to step out whilst we'll discuss this with our CEO."

Mr Hatt nodded and walked out of the conference room. He sat outside for quite sometime. Eventually, he was called back in. He quickly glanced at Mr Keyman to see any expression on him, but none seem to be clear on him. He went to the other side of the table where every member of the board could still see him.

"We've made a decision with The Soaring Eagle Mr Hatt," said the eldest member, "we've decided that he won't be need for our future visions and we will sell him to you, but there will be a catch."

Mr Hatt tilted his head. "What is the catch may I ask?"

"We will sell him, but his nameplates will remain in the company's hands."

Mr Hatt blinked. "You mean, you'll be stripping away of his name?"

"I'm afraid so," said the eldest member, "but it was the only agreement we could all come to."

"He can't even be called Eagle?"

"Not that either."

The Fat Controller sighed. "I understand," he replied. He then looked up to see a glint in Mr Keyman's eyes, as he sat calmly in his chair.

*

Eagle was brought quickly by the North Western and was put back into service. All the engines were pleased for him to come back. But sympathised with the loss of his nameplates, they had to call him red or the midland engine. Thomas and Edward joked a little about it with how nostalgic it was to call him that. The midland engine smiled at that, but at the same time, mourned for his name.

The Fat Controller wasn't too pleased on it either. He knew new names weren't going to easy to find for his new engine, but he wanted to try. So he thought of names, some relating to old Sudrian tales, others that related to important people. And then, he found one which he smiled at.

One evening, a week after the midland engine had been brought by the railway. The Fat Controller headed out of his office, and instead of taking Edward's train back to Wellsworth, he took Gordon's instead, which he gave special permission for him to stop at Kellsthorpe Road, the midland engine's own junction.

It took time, but soon, Gordon rumbled into the station. The Fat Controller thanked the big engine and walked to the sheds, where the midland engine was sizzling down for the night with his crew still there. They were most surprised to find their new controller to come at a time like this.

"Good evening," greeted the Fat Controller.

"Good evening sir," smiled the midland engine, "I wasn't expecting you!"

"Neither was I," chuckled the Fat Controller, "I might have to order a taxi so to go back to Wellsworth!"

"I see," said the midland engine, "so what are you doing here then? Mind me asking sir?"

"Not at all!" laughed the Fat Controller, "I'm with a proposition!"

"A proposition?" echoed the midland engine intrigued.

"Indeed," the Fat Controller said, "my grandfather was an workman back in the 1800s, he helped build railways and eventually, he came here with his family to work for the Tidmouth, Knapford and Elsbridge Light Railway. He managed to get quite high up eventually, not enough though, but he managed to help his son, who was my father, be able to get in a good position so he would soon become chief mechanical engineer of the railway. I never met my grandfather, who died two years before I was born."

The midland engine was amazed. "What his name sir?" he asked.

"Winston."

The midland engine paused for a second. "I'm guessing you want me to have his name sir?" he said.

And the Fat Controller nodded. "Would you like to have it?"

"Well sir..." beamed the midland engine, "it would be my honour! I like the name very much sir!"

"It'll definitely suit you," added the Fat Controller, "now, tomorrow I'll order for you to go to the works for a repaint with a number and some nameplates by next week."

"Actually sir," interjected the midland engine, "can I just have the repaint with the new number? I want to fit in properly like the rest, minding Donald and Douglas I say."

The Fat Controller smiled warmly. He completely understood.

*

And so it was arranged the newly named Winston was sent to works almost immediately to get a new number and he came out two days later with the number thirteen on his side. By then, news had spread across the island about Winston's new name and the engines were impressed. It took some time getting use to, but the other engines soon got it.

Winston still works on the Kirk Ronan branch line and is still popular with the engines and passengers alike. He still gets questions on how he was around on the railway without anyone outside of Sodor fully knowing. And Winston will always tell them about how he came to Sodor, how he got his branch line, how he become one of the Fat Controller's engines and how he came to be known as Winston the Midland Engine.


	22. Ep59: Trains that Smell

**A/N: Backstory on this saga, in June I decided to have a go at fully doing art, drawing and then colouring it and setting the tones for it. I then end finishing an art piece of James crossing a bridge at night with the Mail train. I was so pleased by it that I decided to do a story for it and one thing led to another and here we are with a saga! This story was written straight after doing the art too, so it's was very old when I first published it lol.**

**_James and the Mail Train - Part 1_**

**_1975_**

On a clear summer's night, when the moon is up at it's highest, you can often hear the sounds of an engine steaming through the night with the clattering of massive vans behind him. These are the sounds of James the Red Engine pulling the Sudrian Owl.

The Sudric Owl was Sodor's express mail train, which ran across the North Western mainline from Tidmouth, to Vicarstown, and back again. Sir Topham Hatt I had ordered for it since the LMS agreement which happened in 1925 and mail trains have been running ever since. James had been given the service by Sir Topham Hatt I after the original engine was sent away and he was did such a good job that both Fat Controllers thought it be best for the red engine to stay on the run even when there were much more powerful engines in their disposal.

James took great pride in this service and felt a great set of responsibility. He loved running down the mainline with headlamps swaying and silent moon beaming down at him, helping him guide the way. "Nothing is quite like it!" he would say, "Gordon has his express, Henry has his fish train, whilst I have the most honourable job of all! Pulling the mail!"

"Our jobs are important too," scoffed Henry, "your's just makes your paintwork look generic."

James scowled indignantly. "You're just jealous," he said, "my train is important! Your's is just smelly old fish!"

Henry huffed and rumbled away.

One night though, as James' train was getting ready for another train. The foreman came up to his driver at the footplate. "You must wait until number eight arrives from the Little Western," he ordered, "there's some mail vans that he's bringing in from his branch line that need to be put on his train."

James complied and waited patiently for the Great Western engine to arrive. But when he did, he was shocked to find Duck not only pulling two mail vans, but fish vans tailing behind them as well.

"What's the meaning of this?" James demanded.

Duck looked puzzled. "I only brought the mail vans that I was asked to bring," he replied.

"Silly," said James, "why do you have fish vans with you?"

"I always bring fish vans as my final run here," Duck said, "they aren't pleasant to smell at but I don't mind the quiet runs at night."

"Barbaric!" exclaimed James, "I don't want smelly fish getting all over my letters and parcels, let alone the mail vans!"

"It's not that bad," scoffed Duck, "this fish isn't that bad anyways and besides I'll be seeing you next week at the same time again so you might as well get-"

"What?!"

"Haven't you heard?" scoffed Duck, "summer holidays are more busier than usual meaning more mail than usual. So Royal Mail has signed a contract with the Fat Controller so that I will bring a ton of mail here to the docks twice a week with the train of fish I bring for Henry's kipper."

James wheeshed steam crossly. "That's ludicrous!" he said.

"You can ask the Fat Controller yourself," replied Duck, "then we'll see who's the ludi-ludi-ludicransy."

James only glared at Duck as the Great Western engine shunted his vans to the back of the train. The red engine then set off into the night, he still wasn't impressed with the new arrangement and was in a fowl mood for the entire trip to Vicarstown and back again.

He was still in a bad mood the next morning and gave his complaints to Gordon at the coaling plants.

"A splendid engine with a splendid train needs to be treated professionally," he grumbled, as coal was spill out of the shoot and into his tender, "having fish vans being dragged behind mail vans is not professional."

Gordon groaned.

"The Sudric Owl isn't something to look down upon! It's very important for people to have their letters and parcels be delivered and-"

"James," cut in Gordon, "do be quiet. It's not that big of a deal, the smell of fish is on the vans, not the actual letters and parcels, get that into your smokebox."

The big, blue engine puffed away, leaving an engine which cheeks matched his paintwork.

James hoped that Duck wouldn't bring in the mail vans again the next time the train ran, but unfortunately for him, the Great Western engine pulled up next to him with the vans in tow. And it happened with the next night, then the next, and the next. Soon, James was getting fed up with the smell of fish coming near his mail vans.

He began complaining about it again a week and half later into the new arrangement. The other engines didn't care whatsoever, they just ignored him. But one engine took pity on the red engine, that engine, was Alice. She listened carefully to James grumble about Duck and the fish vans and would always try to sympathise with him when he would stop to breath after another rant.

"-It's just disgusting how they're treating my train," finished James crossly.

"I'm sure it's only a short time only," reassured Alice, "so once the summer season has gone, you can go back to your usual runs."

"I hope so," said James, "otherwise, my vans would be smelling just as bad as those vans!"

"You're a smart engine James," Alice smiled, "I think you can figure something out."

And with that, the Atlantic engine moved out of the shed. Now Alice was a kind engine and didn't like to see any engine unhappy, but she didn't realise that she accidentally planted some ideas into James' smokebox.

"I can get rid of that dratted smell," he smirked, "I'll show that Duck. I'll show him!"

The next night, James came to the goods platform near the docks. Sacks of letters and parcels were being packed all into the rick red vans, and James sizzled nicely. He was soon coupled up and looked at the signal which showed a blocked path. Duck would be soon approaching with the mail vans and the smelly fish vans.

'Not long now,' thought the red engine. Suddenly, he heard a whistle that sounded very much like Duck's. Then, the signal ahead showed green, his driver and fireman were in his cab and all of his vans were shut tightly. Now was his chance.

"Come on! Come on! Come on!" he barked to the mail vans and started off quickly, just as Duck came around the corner and into sight. The Great Western engine was most surprise, so was his crew and didn't have time to react.

But then there was trouble. James had started too quickly and a sudden clank echoed through his heavy steam, James felt himself become very weak indeed and felt himself being pulled back by the shocked and gossiping vans. Steam hissed out of one of his pistons and his driver got out of the cab and stormed around to him and pointed his finger at him.

"You silly engine," he scolded, "you were trying to leave before Duck arrived so not to take the mail vans he brought in, and all because they had a weak smell of fish at the back of your train! Isn't it?"

James blushed in embarrassment, whilst his driver placed his fingers on his temple and sighed. Duck's driver came up. "If you like, we can shunt him in a siding so you can have more time to cool him down," he suggested. James' driver nodded solomely.

"Not much we can do after that," he said, "I think James, cracked a screw and that could be easily replace in under an hour, I just don't know what to do with this mail train though, it'll be quite a long while before James is back up and running and we people need there letters and parcels delivered."

Then James' driver looked past James' configuration, and at Duck, his face then lit up with an idea popped inside his head. He explained to Duck's driver and he agreed, then they both strode over to the Great Western engine.

"I'm afraid there's no other engine but you to pull the Sudric Owl," said the driver to his engine, "I was hoping to go back to Arlesburgh light engine but I guess that won't be the case. Are you sure you can managed?"

"I'll do my best!" smiled Duck confidently. Both drivers nodded at each other and soon enough, everything was arranged, James was put into a siding with the fish vans, whilst Duck's mail vans were put behind the train and the Great Western engine now resided at the front of the train, feeling a little nervous. He wasn't as fast as James, nor had enough traction power either.

But goods news soon occurred as a foreman came up to his driver at the footplate. "A message has been sent down the line about the switch around," stated the foreman, "and Wellsworth's stationmaster has said he would make sure that BoCo can be ready at that station once you've arrived."

"You here that old boy?" chuckled Duck's driver, "you won't have much of a distance or challenge as expected."

"That's good news," Duck sighed.

Everything was ready a minute later, Duck's headlamps were put to the express code with the signature headboard put in front of his funnel, the guard showed his green lamp, and Duck was off.

"Come on! Come on! Come on!" he puffed to the mail vans.

"Alright! Alright!" replied the mail vans as they were pulled towards the mainline.

They soon coasted over the points and Duck began to ease off, going faster and faster. Not as James and with a train much longer and heavier than what he usually pulled, it didn't really help. But the Great Western engine did his best and the mail vans ran smoothly behind him.

He reached Thomas' junction with care, rattled through the countryside and waited patiently at Crosby the loading and unloading of mail and ran along the rails with triumph in his steam along the final stretch. He arrived at Edward's station, breathless, but pleased with himself. BoCo the Big Diesel was there as well as Weighty the Brake Tender, on the banker's siding waiting patiently.

"Well done lad!" called Weighty, "must've taken a lot of effort to take that sort of train along the rails with ya!"

"We heard about you taking the train as soon as we were ordered to get out of the shed," explained BoCo, "I must congratulate you on this as well!"

Duck blushed bashfully. "Well... if you want, you can have the headboard," he said.

"Goodness me no!" laughed BoCo, "headboards don't suit us diesels as well as you steam engines! Besides, it'll take time and we don't want this train to be even later than it has before!"

"Yes indeed!" agreed Duck and they quickly switched around. Both BoCo and Weighty said goodbye to the Great Western engine and Duck puffed quietly into the sheds where Edward was fast asleep. His fireman damp down his fire, and his crew then walked off to the station building where they would spend the night.

Duck then closed his eyes and went happily to sleep.

*

A whistle and the clattering of rolling stock moving quickly along the rails woke Duck up, the morning sun was beginning to shine and the Great Western engine blinked profoundly. With his eyes narrowed, he saw the remainder of the Flying Kipper thundering towards Gordon's Hill. Duck didn't much bother about it though, knew that Henry couldn't help it and went back to sleep.

*

A few hours later, Duck had been turned around and was waiting patiently in the yards for his return trip back to the big station, light engine. The headboard still remained on top of him and his fireman examined it carefully whilst the driver walked up to join with a mug of coffee in his hand.

"Does look wonderful on him," muttered the fireman, the driver nodded. Duck could only worry about one thing.

"Are you sure Oliver and Douglas will be fine without me?" he asked worriedly.

"Oliver and Douglas are reliable engine," replied the driver, still staring at the headboard, "I'm sure they'll be fine for just this morning, let's just focus on getting you back to Tidmouth!"

"And not the headboard?"

"Oh! Yes! Definitely not the headboard!" The driver quickly glanced away and walked back to the cab sipping his coffee.

Suddenly, Duck heard a whistle coming from Gordon's Hill, he glanced back curiously, it sounded quite odd for him, since it sounded like James! But it James. Puffing into the station platform with a passenger train right behind him with the stench of fish coming along too. Duck cringed. "Why are you hear James?" he asked curiously.

James said nothing, he just turned red and looked the other way, but it was his driver who spoke. "It was just a loose screw that James manage to push out of his piston!" he called, "once we did that and steamed him back up, the foreman asked us to pull the Flying Kipper instead of Henry so to waste time in getting the big green up!"

Duck chuckled lightly, then noticed James looking up at the headboard on top of him. "Oh!" Duck gasped, "I should give you this back now, shan't I?"

"Don't bother!" called James' driver, "when we got to Vicarstown, we got word from Tidmouth that the Fat Controller is not pleased with James' actions and is switching around the timetable so that Henry will pull the Sudric Owl and James to pull the Flying Kipper for at least month!"

Duck chuckled even more. "Oh dear!" he said cheekily, "I'm guessing the mail vans won't be taking the smell of fish with them! But it would be you instead James!"

Both crews laughed, whilst James let off steam angrily. He heard the guard's whistle, saw the signal drop green and moved out of the station, as quickly as he dared.


	23. Ep60: First Night

**_James and the Mail Train - Part 2_**

James was very cross, after trying to get away with not taking some mail vans which came along with Duck's fish train, he was ordered to take the Flying Kipper whilst Henry pulled the Sudric Owl. The red engine managed to keep to time, but it was hard work and the smell of fish was appalling. Of course, James hated this and the engines enjoyed teasing him about it.

"I never thought that James would do something so reckless," mused Henry.

"Well he would do anything!" chuckled Gordon, "first for the express! Then for the mail's dignity!"

"I'd sae the dignoty raisin' up since Jeames left!" said Douglas cheekily.

Both Gordon and Henry burst out laughing. James wheeshed steam.

"Shut up!" he barked, "it's not funny!"

"Well, well, well Jeames," said Douglas modestly, "nae need to get all rowed up all oover nothin'. Only having a laugh."

"Having a laugh you say? About what?"

The four engines looked to see Winston come to the coal hopper. His usual mainline slow goods was pushed back for a few hours so he could look after a few extra trains on his branch that day and was now going to take the last goods train that evening. Douglas explained about James' situation and Winston grinned.

"Ahh yes," he said, "not the first time an engine replaced another for the mail train."

Gordon and Henry mumbled in agreement, whilst Douglas looked puzzled. Ever since he came to the railway, James had always pulled the Sudric Owl. Winston's saw his confused looke and winked at him.

"Guess we haven't told you about the first time the mail train started running," he noted, "would you like to hear?"

"Didnae have anything else tae dae," Douglas replied, "might as well!"

Douglas listened closely, as Winston began his story.

*

After the LMS agreement, things changed almost instantly, the headquarters at Vicarstown was moved to Tidmouth station and the station had a massive redevelopment stage. James came to Sodor after a recommendation from Sodor's Military Force when the LMS offered one of their engines to the North Western Railway after the contract was signed, and when Thomas rescued him after he crashed into a field, the tank engine got the Ffarquhar branch line. Whilst that all happened, one of the blue engines who was on trial, went missing with his crew's bodies being found dead at Vicarstown yards.

Everything was seen as chaotic in the eyes of the Fat Director, who now the engines began to call the Fat Controller, and he felt very distressed. Even more so, when request began coming in for him to make mail train service along the mainline, stopping when needing to collect or drop off mail along the mainline.

He found it quite daunting. Quickly, the Fat Controller organised a special train for these requests and hurried to the new Tidmouth yards on a cold, frosty morning in February.

Gordon, Henry and James were all waiting there at the new depot, with the new sheds being built built behind them. The Fat Director greeted the engines sternly. "As you may know," he announced, "we've been having a busy time with the new headquarters coming to this side of the island, Thomas going to work on the Ffarquhar branch line and 87546, commonly known as Simon has been missing for a while."

The big engines all glanced at each other. "But we now need an engine to take the mail train," he continued, "so, Gordon. I'm wondering if you could take the mail services from the Tidmouth, to Vicarstown, and then back again with another mail train."

"Well... I... erm..." said Gordon hesitantly, "I don't want to sound ungrateful sir, but I've got to take that new express service, the Wild Nor' Wester! Surely, you understand that I cannot take these mail services for I'll be working hard with express services in the day too!"

The Fat Controller pondered, then nodded. "That's a good point Gordon," he agreed, "but who else can take this mail service?"

"Maybe I could--"

"Please Henry," halted the Fat Controller, with his hand up, "I need an reliable engine for this task."

Henry sighed and subsided. James, who had been kept in the yards after his accident, wanted to ask his new controller on taking the train himself. He was, when the red engine's mouth was halted by a booming, low whistle. Another blue engine, with a lighter shade than Gordon's came backing in. He was bigger than James, but roughly the same size as Henry and smaller than Gordon. And had a 4-6-0 wheel arrangement and numbers, painted on each side of his tender. 98462, otherwise known as Alfred.

"I apologise for being late sir," said Alfred quietly, who's eyes look very downcast and glancing at his buffers, "there was a faulty signal when I was entering the junction here."

The Fat Controller hummed a reply, there was a deafening silence. At last, their controller spoke. "You haven't been well behaved since you first came here Alfred," he announced, Alfred's lips went into a thin line and he tensed up, "but you have been well behaved ever since the accident on the viaduct and with being the only engine suitable here for the task, I'd like you to pull the mail services at night for the North Western Railway."

Alfred's eyes lit up. "Really sir?" he said, "oh sir! Th-thank you very much sir! I promise I won't let you down!"

The Fat Controller nodded and walked off. Alfred was smiling happily to himself, whilst Gordon and Henry grumbled to each other. James just looked disappointed and went back to work.

Alfred was excited on pulling a mail train. "They're very important," he would say in the sheds, "they help people communicate from long distances and brings them packages too."

"We know what they are you silly git," scoffed Gordon, "we're not idiots!"

"Unlike some engines who catch their brakes on fire," chuckled Henry, looking cheekily at the red engine nearby.

James rolled his eyes. "Take no notice lad," assured his driver, "we'll show them!"

James wanted to, but didn't know how.

*

Alfred was very excited, too excited and his old ways began to creep back into his smokebox. He bragged and boasted about how the Fat Controller was trusting him on such an important train. Gordon was now regretting on dismissing the Fat Controller's proposition to him and James and Henry were very jealous of the tender engine.

When the night came to take the first mail train, Alfred was beaming with pride with the new headboard put at the front of his funnel saying 'Sudric Owl'. Workmen fussed over him and the big blue, tender engine felt very puffed up in the smokebox. James, who was staying the night at Tidmouth, came backing into a siding nearby. He watched with interest.

Alfred, eventually noticed the new red engine and grinned broadly. "I see you cannot lay your eyes of me," he mused, "no one can, I look immaculate and that word will eventually be an understatement when I'll pull the Sudric Owl!"

James rolled his eyes. "I don't know what eventually means," he retorted, "but it sounds very long."

Alfred sneered back at James. "You won't be mocking me soon new guy," he said, and Alfred chuffed off. James just glanced away.

*

A few hours later, the mail train was ready at the small port. The moon had risen long before Alfred backed down onto it and the eight, new mail vans, their red paint glisten in it's bright light. Alfred was feeling excited. "I'll do it, I'll do it," he said to himself.

The guard blew his whistle, and Alfred set off into the night, with the mail vans following smoothly behind.

He began to thunder down the mainline, only stopping at places with the most mail and running carefully through other stations who had little mail to deliver or be not fragile enough to be a hassle with. The Sudric Owl was a new travelling post office service, meaning it could pick up mail or drop them off without stopping. This was done by special equipment which was put in front of the station or it's nearest signalbox, and installed on the new mail vans too. A special yellow and black sign was put a few yards away from the station so to tell men on the train to prepare for the exchange and for the engine's crew to slow their locomotive down.

Alfred rattled carefully through Crosby, with the equipment on the train successfully grabbing the mail from the ground and it being successful on catching the mail from the train in it's net. Alfred smiled proudly. "Nothing to it!" he cheered to himself, "I'll show them all what a really useful engine I am! I will and I must! I will and I must!"

The train was going so well, Alfred rushed past Maron and once the exchange happened, he sped up again. But he had become to prideful for his own good now.

A while later, Alfred was coming towards Cronk station. He didn't need to stop there, but he did need to do an exchange there. But he was so proud and puffed up, he had forgotten about Cronk.

Eventually, the yellow and black sign was seen by Alfred's driver, he went to apply the brakes, but Alfred wasn't concentrating, he was using too much steam and the brakes weren't properly working.

"Alfred!" called his driver. But Alfred didn't here him.

"ALFRED!!" The tender engine immediately came back to reality and his brakes came on hard, he rattled past the station and watched in shock as he past the equipment. Not a second later, he a clank and a thud. At last, he came to a groaning stop, he reversed back down the line to the station to find wrecked metal, a tangled net and a very cross signalman.

"You silly great engine!" scolded the signalman, "you were going too fast that the equipment broke!"

The driver wiped his head. "We'll be needing to take the mail van who hit the equipment off the train," he noted, "it's equipment is damaged from the fast collision too and will be unsafe for the men to go in it."

"We'll have to unload all of the mail from it and put it in the others," sighed a mailman from the train, "that'll take a while."

Alfred groaned and said nothing as he waited to be ordered to shunt the mail van off the train, he knew he was going to be in trouble.

*

Early next morning, James the Red Engine was shunting in the yards once again. Then he heard a familiar, booming whistle. Alfred bustled in looking tired and annoyed.

"You're late," James noted.

Alfred glared crossly back at the red engine, but said nothing.

James continued shunting, when returning back to the yards behind the new big station, he saw the Fat Controller scolded Alfred severely.

"I cannot have engines damaging special equipment and delaying important trains," he said, "I'm afraid you won't be pulling the Sudric Owl tomorrow night."

Alfred didn't say anything, he just excepted it and looked at his buffers. Then, the Fat Controller spotted James. An idea then came to his head. "James," he said, "would you like to pull our mail train?"

James looked surprised, but whistled happily. "It'll be an honour sir!" he cried.

The Fat Controller smiled. "That's good to hear," he said, "I'll have you learn how to pull the mail vans and the exchange process later today!"

He then tipped his hat, and left. James was pleased.

The next night, James ran the Sudric Owl. He did a superb job with it, slowing down at stations, stopping at junctions and racing through the night sky. He felt very splendid indeed.

*

"After that, James was to agreed to become the Sudric Owl's primary engine for the runs," finished Winston, "and was then considered next day to run a train along the mainline with Edward. Heh, we all know how that went!"

James looked away whilst the others chuckled.

"Sae, whut happun to that Alfrad bloke?" asked Donald, who he and Alice had both arrived whilst Winston was recalling the past.

"Sent back I'm afraid," said Winston grimly, "I'm sorry to say he didn't seem like he had learnt a bit, but I do feel sorry for the lad. Wonder what happened to him after."

"He was in London back in the 1950s last time I heard," said Henry.

"Paaah, who cares about him!" said Gordon crossly, the engines all stared at the big engine. He was a troublemaker!" he continued grandly, "caused trouble wherever he went, surprised he made it that far in the 50s!"

"How rude," said Alice.

"It's true my dear Alice," Gordon replied, "believe me, you never met that silly fool."

"Got to admit, Gordon is right," agreed Henry.

"Whatever the case, I hope James should know that he isn't so irreplaceable as he thinks he is," Winston finished off, looking across at James.

The red engine looked back at the midland engine. He sighed. "Anymore stories you like to share about my mail train?" he asked, a little coldly.

Winston pondered. "Well, there is that time with Thomas and Edward, isn't there?" he grinned.

James pondered, then looked at Winston approvingly.

The midland engine grinned happily and began to tell his next story. But I shan't say anymore, otherwise I'll spoil the next story!


	24. Ep61: Wartime Mail

**_James and the Mail Train - Part 3_**

At first, when the second world war was announced, the engines didn't see much change.

But they eventually did, troop trains were scheduled into the regular ones. Factories began to stop their own work in the industrial estates and begin making weapons for the battlefields such as guns, planes and tanks. And the fort near the outskirts of Vicarstown was storming in with people coming to train before being shipped off to France.

James had the most experience with pulling heavy machinery, he would constantly collect trains of material shipped from Isle of Man at Tidmouth Harbour, or collect a few tanks from Brendam or take troop trains from Vicarstown to the mainland where he would swap with other engines further down south.

There was also another engine, owned by the Sodor's own military, his name was Matthew, he was an London, Brighton and South Coast E4 tank engine. He helped with the work but was planned to go and help down south with the others in the Battle of Britain.

When he did, Molly came to take his place and James was loaned off to help with the workload at the fort. This meant that some work had to passed around with the other engines, but the Fat Controller came a to a problem with the Sudric Owl. Gordon had been ordered to be kept in the shed most of the time for being too valuable for the island to lose and Henry was busy with the workload giving to him whilst the others were away.

The Fat Controller had sort everything out and went with the only option he found suitable for the task.

"Me?!" exclaimed Thomas is alarm, "you want me to pull an express mail train across the island?!"

"I wouldn't be asking you if wasn't for the circumstances Thomas," sighed the Fat Controller, "you must understand that we don't have the engine power we use to have and with the war giving us extra and longer trains, the bigger engines will be exhausted and Percy cannot do it he's too small for it!"

Thomas sighed hastily. "Yes sir, I understand sir," he murmured.

The Fat Controller nodded and walked away back to his car. But he knew Thomas wouldn't be able to cope if he didn't find a solution fast and there wasn't much options available for him!

When James heard about Thomas taking his place with the Sudric Owl, he wasn't best pleased. But when seeing Thomas he couldn't be cross and explained to him on what to do with the trains. Thomas listened carefully and soon the blue tank engine began to take the trains. He couldn't go quite as fast as James, otherwise he would bounce himself off the rails. He would often stop at junctions or do the exchange system on other stations along the line. He would also stop at Wellsworth or Maron station to refill on water since his tanks didn't carry as much as James'.

One night though, a week and a half after Thomas started pulling the Sudric Owl, Edward was backing down into his banker's siding. He had taken a late night goods train to Vicarstown and had gone all the way back to his station tender first, but now he had to wait for Thomas to arrive with the mail train.

A few minutes passed. But eventually, Thomas arrived and Edward was very surprised to see the look of Thomas' face. He hadn't seen the tank engine for a while and was surprised to see him with two massive bags underneath his eyes and a short stumble had form across the bottom of his face. Edward blinked when he saw it.

"Well... Thomas," said Edward, "I didn't you could--"

"Get a stumble? Yeah!" snapped Thomas, he then paused and sighed, "sorry Edward, I've just been so busy with the workload and this blasted mail train has been causing most of my problems."

Edward raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"The mail train is heavy," replied Thomas, "James can cope with it because he's bigger and a tender engine. I'm an E2 tank engine, terrible water capacity and rough fast running! I'm not fit for these heavy trains."

"I'm sorry I can't help Thomas," said Edward, "I'm quite busy myself with the morning work, I could lend a helping buffer for you to go up Gordon's Hill."

"No, it's fine," said Thomas dismissively, "I need to make by axelboxes stronger anyways."

The guard blew his whistle, and Thomas pulled out of the station, heaving and groaning. Edward was left alone in the quiet, dark station with much to ponder.

*

Edward couldn't help but worry all night. He was still worrying midday when he arrived with some empty vans to the harbour. James the Red Engine was there, ready to collect a goods train from the Isle of Man and take them to the fort or the mainland beyond.

"Afternoon Edward," James called as the blue engine came up next to him.

"Hullo James," said Edward, "I saw Gordon go by me. Thank goodness they're letting him run."

"I know, Henry says he's been bored and grumpy," agreed James, "he must be very relieved that the attacks are coming in less now."

"Indeed," Edward chortled, "speaking of the others, I finally saw Thomas after he started taking your mail runs."

"Hmm," hummed James, "how did you find him?"

"Well he's got a stubble for a starters!" cried Edward, "he hates facial hair! It must be a very serious thing if he's got that!"

"I know," said James, "I pity him, if it weren't for how much mail he's carrying, I think he'll try less harder to pull."

"There has to be another way to stop this," said Edward.

"There isn't," said James snootily, "you can't stop mail being delivered Edward."

"But Thomas won't be pulling it soon," said Edward darkly, "he will be shattered by next week if he keeps it up!"

James pondered, he clicked his tongue and looked around the harbour. Then, he noticed a familiar, bright green shape shunting in the background. He smirked broadly. "I've got an idea," he said with a wink to the blue engine.

Edward raised a brow, but before he could say anything, James spoke to his driver. "Could you move me towards Percy please?" he asked.

"Percy is on the out-of-bounds areas for you to go to James," said the driver, after surveying where he was at."

Edward was now seeing where James' idea was going. "Then tell Percy to come here and talk to us!" James replied.

The driver, rolled his eyes, but did as his engine asked and a few minutes later, Percy came puffing up. "Hello!" he peeped happily, "what's going on?"

"Percy, I need to ask you something," said James sternly.

"Sure," said Percy, rather hesitantly. "What is it?"

"Do you like to pull important trains?"

"Well... I haven't pulled one before, but I'd love to!"

"Do you like the night?"

"Oh yes!!"

"Perfect! Congratulations Percy, you're now going to pull the Sudric Owl!!"

"REALLY!! WOW--I!"

"Hang on!" whistled Edward, "Percy can't pull the mail train James, you know he isn't strong."

"Wait--I-well--y--yeah James!" peeped Percy, "way t--to go!"

James only sneered at the small engine. "That's not what I meant," he said to Edward, "of course Percy can't pull the mail train all on his own. However, I've got an idea which might solve it."

Edward and Percy raised their brows and listened to James' plan.

*

Two nights later, Thomas arrived at the harbour at Tidmouth to take the mail train once more. He grumbled crossly as he puffed backwards towards the loading stations. But was very surprised to see Percy on the other track as he backed down onto the train.

"Percy?" he said, "what are you doing here?"

"We decided to make it a surprise reveal!" replied Percy brightly.

Thomas was very confused, until the foreman came up. "Ahh, number one, glad you're still working," he said amusingly, "as you can see, Percy will be helping with your mail runs along the line."

"Helping me?" the tank engine echoed, he then looked back and gasped. Behind Percy, half of the mail train was behind him.

"The remaining four vans are on your own train," said the foreman, "they've been equally divided onto stations where you'll be stopping or getting an exchange from, don't worry, your drivers will be given the information on what to do along the lines."

Thomas couldn't believe it. He looked towards Percy. "How?" he asked.

"Edward saw you looking exhausted and thought to tell James who came up with the idea!" smiled Percy, "I find it brilliant and enthusiastic!"

"Of course you would," Thomas smirked back.

The mail trains ran on time after that, Thomas got better and Percy enjoyed taking the mail along the mainline. All throughout the war they did until they happily handed back to James a few months after it all came to an end.

*

Winston sighed after finishing his second story. The others gaped in disbelief.

"James?" said Alice.

"Indeed," chuckled Gordon, "it came to shock to us too!"

"Silly engine changed for the worse once diesels arrived," said Henry, "he'll never change, not now, not ever!"

James said nothing, he only looked at his buffers.

The midland engine smiled back at him. "Listen James," he said, trying to sound as wise as Edward or Toby, "you're a good engine, but sometimes, you have to except change, with your own trains, or the entire world around you!"

James glanced up at him. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said sheepishly.

"I think you do," said Winston, as he wheeshed his steam, "just remember, sometimes you just got to adapt."

Winston then left the sheds with many faithful goodbyes, but he did leave a red engine, very much lost in thought.


	25. Ep62: The Flying Owl

**_James and the Mail Train - Part 4_**

James thought about what Winston had said for the rest of week.

He kept pulling the Flying Kipper and the stench was getting to him, but Henry was finding pulling the Sudric Owl most enjoyable, it was a nice change but it was beginning to get into his smokebox.

One evening, Henry was resting in the yards, when James puffed in, he had just pulled a coal train and now had coal dust all over him. Henry sniffed at the sight.

"And I thought you only smell bad," he said musingly.

James snorted. "Good luck tonight Henry," he said crossly, "because the winds might let all that hot air cool down within your smokebox!"

Henry wheeshed steam, annoyed. "Why don't you puff away and get yourself clean," he said, "not that'll last long anyways."

James huffed crossly and chuffed away.

*

That evening, Henry arrived at the harbour platform, where mail from Sodor, Isle of Man or Ireland had come and were now being put into the mail vans. But Duck hadn't arrived yet and Henry was getting impatient.

"How can I keep to time if Duck is late," he said crossly, "he doesn't understand the Fat Controller depends on me!"

"Never mind about that!" laughed the driver, "we must wait for Duck, leaving mail behind is never an option."

At last, Duck came panting in. "Sorry I'm late," he gasped, "their was a problem with one of the fish vans before setting off!"

Henry only grumbled as Duck quickly shunted the mail vans to the back of his train. And finally, with the guard blowing his whistle and the line clear, the big green engine pulled out towards the mainline, however, he pulled too hard. But he hadn't noticed anything.

Henry raced down the line, his pistons pounding the rails and his headlamps swayed and guided him through the night. He had thundered through Edward's station and now thundered up Gordon's Hill. "Come on, come on, come on," he panted to the mail vans, he then found himself at the top. "I've done it! I've done it!"

But as he reached the bottom of the hill, he began to pick up speed and the couplings tighten. Suddenly, there was a loud bang and Henry felt his train getting slower and slower. He eventually came to groaning stop right outside of Maron station's platform. "What on earth happened?" he demanded crossly.

His driver went to check, but he didn't have to find the problem. "There's a leak on the first van's brake pipe," he said, annoyed, "you must've been riding too roughly!"

Henry snorted crossly, the stationmaster walked up and the driver had to explain everything. "Well, you'll have to unload the mail from the first van into the others and shunt it off the train," sighed the stationmaster.

Henry was very cross. "I've got a timetable to keep up with!" he said, "it'll take ages for us to set off again!"

"Nothing we can do now," said the driver, who completely ignored his engine. Soon, the men were quickly loading the mail from the first van into the others, Henry sat impatiently. At last, the mail van was uncoupled and Henry was ordered to shunt it into one of the station's sidings.

There was only a few sidings at Maron, only there for a few trucks to be kept there for the nearby town. The only one that was empty, was a siding right in front of the station buildings, it was mainly used for a banker's siding for Gordon's Hill, but the signalman and stationmaster allowed it this once. Henry was being very impatient though, he didn't want James to hear about his delays. But his impatience was making him move very quickly and roughly. His crew could barely stand as they were chucked around the cab like beans in a frying pan.

Then it happened, no one knew what happened, Henry said the night made it hard to see, his crew said the green engine was just being reckless. Somehow, Henry started backwards into the siding, too fast, and by the time he realise what was about to happen, it was too late. The mail van slammed right into the buffers, causing itself and Henry's Stannier tender to come off the rails. Luckily, no one was hurt, but Henry felt very sheepish indeed.

*

James was taking the Flying Kipper early that morning, only a one or two hours between the Sudric Owl. So, he was very surprised to find him switching onto the down line and then seeing the mail vans standing just before Maron station's platform. He then saw why and couldn't help but laugh as he saw workmen inspecting Henry's derailed tender.

"Oh dear Henry!" he said, as the red engine came to a stop at the other platform, "that wasn't so clever was it!"

Henry looked the other way. "You said I smell bad," continued James, "but I guess you smell worse with stupidity."

"Very clever James," Henry snorted, "but don't you have to take the Kipper?"

"That's what I'm doing now actually you utter idiot," smirked James, Henry clenched his teeth and subsided.

The stationmaster then walked up to the red engine's crew. "I'm afraid number three has been taken out of service due to his accident, but there is no other engine available to take the Sudric Owl. All, but your engine."

James' driver blinked. "Are you telling me, that you want James to pull both the Flying Kipper and the Sudric Owl?"

"Only option we have left," shrugged the stationmaster.

James' driver sighed, whipping his head. "Do you think you do it old boy?" he called to his engine.

"I'll give it a try," whistled the red engine, full of determination.

It was quickly arranged, James collected the mail vans and shunted them all in front of the fish vans. He was quickly inspected and everything was then ready.

"Don't try to make up lost time," called the stationmaster, "just try and get the mail and fish to their destinations safely!"

James whistled a reply and he was soon allowed to proceed along the mainline. "Come on. Come on." he said to the vans.

"You're doing it! You're doing it!" called the mail vans.

"Hurry along! Hurry along!" added the fish vas impatiently.

It was slow and hard work, but James soon got the train up to a good speed. He puffed down the line as hard as he could, he wasn't going as fast as any of these two express trains should've been going at, but he was still determined. He stopped at all the station along the line and at last, arrived at Barrow, exhausted, but triumphant.

He was originally going to head back to Tidmouth light engine, but with no other engine taking the returning mail service, James had no other option. Not like he was going to decline it anyways.

He returned back to Tidmouth late again, but still very pleased with himself.

"Nothing to it!" he congratulated himself.

He was so exhausted, that when he arrived to the sheds, he felt asleep almost straight away.

When the Fat Controller heard next morning, he gladly arranged for James to take a day off of work for his determination for pulling the two heavy express services and gave the red engine his mail run once again, this made James very pleased.

Henry's tender was soon repaired, and the Fat Controller talked to him severely about poor deliveries.

One cold, wet morning, three days after the events, Henry came up to James at the depot. "Listen James," he said awkwardly, "I'm sorry for... taking the micky out of you for your punishment, we've all been there on this railway."

"Well... not all us," said James, thinking of Edward, Toby and Winston, "but I see where you're getting at too and... I'm sorry too. For making your Flying Kipper sound like it's a burden. I'm still not too keen on it, but I understand it's importance and how hard it is to pull it. You really are quite skilled to pull a train like that."

Henry wasn't expecting that, but smiled with a flush of red on his cheeks. "Thank you James," he blushed, "by the way, did you apologise to Duck for that accident?"

"Hmm? Oh yeah, I talked to him a day after your accident. All sorted!"

"Good, good. That's a start at least."

"Say what?"

"I mean, you have a quarrel with every engine!"

"No I don't."

"Oh yes you do."

"No. I don't!"

"Yes! You do!!"

I don't think these two will ever stop arguing about something, don't you?


	26. Ep63: What I Am

**_????_**

It was cold and silent.

The top of the mountains of were covered by dark black clouds.

The diesel rumbled along the line slowly, he was confused. He couldn't remember anything, not who he was, not where he came from and what he was doing in such a dark but obviously beautiful landscape like this.

His eyes darted fearfully around the unfamiliar area. Suddenly, a ringing was heard inside him and he groaned, clenching his eyes tightly.

"_Ahhh, I see the signal isn't so bad over there_," said an unfamiliar voice, who was rasped this a glitchy.

"W-What happened?" cried the diesel.

"_You're one of our greatest achievements_," chuckled the unfamiliar voice, "_you are to help pay way to the future and to stop the old-timers from rebelling_."

Then, the diesel felt something on top of him, he looked up and gasped, eyes widened in shock and terror. "W-WHAT IS THAT?!"

"_That my dear diesel_," said the voice, "_is a claw, and you're one of many to help us control the engines._"

"W-WHO AM I?" cried the diesel, "WHY AM I HERE? WHERE IS YOUR VOICE COMING FROM!!!!???"

"_You are special_," began the voice, "_a tragic hero with so much to be burden with, but shows great hope for the revolution of mankind_."

The diesel looked around his surroundings, he was on a single track, with no lights near him at all. But some yellow, sparkling ones could be seen ahead. It was beautiful to the diesel.

"_Travel down this very same track until you reach the end,_" ordered the voice, rather harshly, "_you'll find out who you are there, but don't be seen by any engine, especially steam engines. Y'know who they are right_?"

"Y-Yes, they're the round ones which have steam puffing out of those chimney-things," described the diesel.

The voice hummed a response and said nothing. After a few seconds silence, the diesel decided it was best to do what he was told, and crept forward towards the lights on his single track.

He tried his best, but when got to the town, he looked to see a station with a few people. He gasped quietly and looked around frantically to see where to go next, then he saw some points. Luckily, they were set towards the yard. The diesel knew he could go through the yards and out to the other side, it looked darker that way so he might have a better shot. He quickly darted over the points and rumbled into the yards. He went in-between some trucks, some were asleep, but some glanced up at the diesel in pure shock.

The diesel said nothing and came to a quiet stop. He then heard voices and didn't say a word.

He then saw two steam engines, one was a tank engine shunting whilst facing the opposite direction to the diesel whilst the other was medium-size tender engine which was facing the same direction as himself, but he couldn't see his face.

The diesel listened curiously, as the two engines talked.

"Y'knoow," said the tank engine, "I always wondered what it's loike to be a famoos engine."

The tender engine scoffed. "Yae can dream lad," he replied rather snootily, "but I'd rather keep my distance from cameras."

The diesel then looked around his surroundings quickly, he then remembered the strong accents the two steam engines had, he was in Scotland! No wonder it was so beautiful here.

The two engines continued to chatter. "Well... don't yae have twoo brothers on Sodor, they're kinda famous!"

The tender engine sniffed. "Those two who ran away there? Och, they definitely would've caused havoc," he said, "I'm tellin' yae Drake, they're silly ol' folks. What even are they're names again."

"Believe they're called Douglas and Donald," said Drake, "and they're not silly! They managed to get away with something that any engine would think impossible, imagine what we could do!"

"I wouldn't get yae hopes up lad," sighed the tender engine, with that Thomas the Tank Engine bloke being in the headlines all week with him getting his noosy smokebox into places where he shouldn't belong. Pfft, he was a fool tae think he was immune to anythin'!"

The diesel immediately recognised the name, it was well-known to many engines, he knew that. But an odd, strange feeling of guilt crept through his engine.

"Aye I know," said Drake, "and that rumour of the diesel with a claw, that scares me!"

"I think we all are," said the tender engine grimly, "let's hope it's not true."

"Aye," said Drake. The diesel looked up at his claw and gulped, wondering how he had gotten such a curse as that... thing on top of him. He tried to move, but he couldn't, it wouldn't budge.

"Tell yae what lad," said the tender engine, "I'll shunt those vans whilst yae go and off to fill on water."

"Really, are yae sure Maxwell?" asked Drake.

"Positive lad, now off yae go!"

Drake scurried off happily, the diesel tensed up a little, hoping Drake didn't see him. Fortunately, he didn't. And Maxwell, ran over the points and began to shunt the vans away. The diesel looked either side of him, the trucks still cowering over him. The diesel said nothing and rumbled slowly off, trying to get away from yards and back onto the singular line. The points were set for him, but just as he was going to make it happened.

"IT'S THE DIESEL WITH THE CLAW!!!"" screamed a truck from behind, the diesel stopped and looked back, with railway staff turning and gasping in shock in what they were seeing. Maxwell stopped shunting the vans and they rolled into the siding on their own, he glanced over and his eyes widen.

"_YOU_," he all but said.

The diesel gasped and pegged it down the line.

"Don't make him escape!" cried a workman.

"Quickly!" called the tender engine's driver, "switched the points so Maxwell can go after him."

That was all the diesel heard as he thundered away. His breathing had become heavy and was extremely frightened, he rattled down the line. A few minutes later, he was running along a massive lake, then he heard a steam engine's puffing getting louder and louder. He looked back and cried out in shock as the Scottish tender engine came chasing after him.

"THERE YAE ARE YAE WEE BLIGHTER!!" screamed the tender engine.

The diesel whimpered in terror and sped up, trying to get away from the engine.

As they rattled down the line, travelling through the dark green trees, the diesel heard thunder up above and saw he and the engine were heading straight towards the storm. The diesel looked back and saw the engine was slowing down. They were now about to head into a thunderstorm in the middle of the night.

They rattled over bridges and raced round bends, the steam engine was getting closer and closer. The rains then began to hit them hard. The diesel whimpered again. He then heard the engine coming up behind, and then there was a sharp bump from behind.

The diesel wailed. "PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE!!" he cried out.

"OCH!!! NOT FOR WHAT YAE DONE!!" shouted back the engine.

"GO FOR IT MAXWELL!!" called the driver.

The diesel rumbled down the line, trying to see if there were any points for him to be diverted away from the engine who was coming after him like a lion chasing his pray. There were none. He was alone, in the rain and being chased down by a steam engine and his crew.

"STOP RUNNING YAE WE GRONK!!" called the engine.

The diesel was then bumped harshly once, he almost jumped off the rails and he groaned.

"PLEASE! STOP!" he cried again, tears almost streaming down his cheeks, joining the rain. "I DON'T WANT ANY TROUBLE!!"

"OCH! KEEP TELLIN' YAESELF THAT!!!"

The diesel clenched his face and braked a bit and hit the engine hard. Not enough to derail him, but enough for him to go backwards a bit. Finally, two tracks appeared as they came across another massive lake which seemed to connect to the sea.

And the diesel rumbled over the points, there was a loud, booming whistle, and the diesel looked back to see the engine coming up along side the other track. He seemed like he was going to try and over take him and stop him before reaching the end of the line.

The engine began to run along the left side of him with a wide, sly smirk at him. "Pathetic," he said thickly, the diesel's eyes widen in terror. "Yae cannae escape us! Yae going towards the end of the line lad, where will yae go then?"

"SOMEWHERE WHERE I'M SAFE!" cried back the diesel.

"TRUST ME GRONK," laughed the engine, with a laugh so evil to the diesel it couldn't of exist in a world so beautiful like this, "YAE'LL NEVER BE SAFE!! NAE UGLY DIESEL WILL BE!! YAE'LL FOREVER BE FUCKIN' POISEN TO THIS WORLD!!

The diesel's eyes widen in shear shock, The thunder became more louder than ever and then, a sharp, electrical pain hit the diesel. He clenched his face as the engines were now running almost side by side, the steam engine raised a brow curiously as the diesel winced and growled in pain. Then the clutched expression relaxed, and then the diesel's eyes opened, it looked over at the steam engine who was now fully showing his face, a beard nearly showing with chocolate coloured eyes and a stubby-looking nose.

The engine's confidence face turned into horror as blood red eyes pieces at him, emotionless and deadly.

The claw then lifted up, the diesel sped forwards, the crew in the cab wailed in terror as the claw turned to be above their engine. It's fangs opened and grabbed at the steam engine's smokebox. He yelped in pain, as the claw's fangs went deeper into him and finally, his right eye popped out and black blood squirted out with shards of his metal skull coming through his flesh. The claw lifted the engine up as it wailed and chucked him off the rails, and ran into the rocks which were between the embankment and the lake connected to the sea.

The explosion was deafening, enough to make the blood red coming from the diesel's eyes to disappear, the claw dropped from it's tall position and laid off the diesel's top, jaw dropped and unwilling to move no more. The diesel blinked as he thundered towards the end of the line, where he noticed the town where the line ends next to lake. The dark clouds had lighten now and the thundering rain had now become light spitting. He saw the station which took a curve around the town and sighed.

The signalling waves came back on through his mind. "_Ahhh, I can see you coming now,_" chortled the voice, "_and I see you've got yourself busy whilst coming here with your claw like that_!"

"Don't speak," spat out the diesel bitterly.

The voice paused through the signalling channel for a split second. "_What was that_?"

"I know the answers now," said the diesel, "I know why this thing is attached to me, I know what happened to me, I know who I am, I know what happened to... to Thomas..."

There was no reply back. The diesel looked on towards the sharp bend and began to speed up.

"I know who you are too," he continued, "I know what you want from me and you will not receive it."

"_You are a fool_," came the reply.

"No," said the diesel, in a confident tone, "you are."

He rushed around the bend and tipped over managing to slide along the ground on his side, crash through a fence and fall into the lake.

A man at the station looked on in disbelief, as he watched the waves ease back to normal. He cursed under his breath and walked away. He headed to the ferry in which he would be transported in, he had to make a new plan now, but first, he needed to lie low.

But he will come back... eventually.


	27. Ep64: The Visitor

**_1975_**

One morning, Gordon came up to Vicarstown with his returning express service. He wasn't steaming well and stopped right next to the platform. He huffed, annoyed. "I feel like if I take a sprint I wouldn't be able to breathe," he said to his crew, "I might blow!"

"Hmmm, your steam pressure doesn't look too good either on the gauges," his driver added, "but we can't leave the express stranded here!"

Gordon pondered on the thought, he looked around, then back to the yards from behind the station. Suddenly, an idea struck him. "I saw Bear in the yards when stopping here," he said, "why not get him to take the express? I know he'll look after my passengers!"

The driver smiled. "He does have a slow goods so you will be fine with that," he said, approvingly, "I'll try and make the arrangements."

Soon, Bear backed down onto Gordon's express train, his engine growling as usual. "Are you sure you want me to take your express?" he asked, sounding perplexed.

Gordon smiled. "Don't worry about me," he said, "I just need to catch my breath for once, do some quiet work with slow goods. Besides, you're a good substitute."

Bear chuckled. "I don't know whether I should take that as an compliment," he said, musingly. Gordon smirked as Bear growled away with the express.

The big engine soon went to the yards in between the houses of Vicarstown and rested there for a while. He was soon ordered to take Bear's slow goods, he felt much better now and soon buffered up to the line of trucks. They were very surprised, but pleased, Gordon treated them well and had huge respect towards him.

"Come along chaps!" Gordon called as he exited the yards, "we'll make this a good run shall we?"

"Oh yes!" called back the trucks.

Picking up speed, the train set off down the line. Gordon rumbled down the line, not too slow and not too fast. He stopped at stations he needed to collect or set down trucks, workmen and engines were surprised, but talked to the friendly big engine happily as he did his work. Soon enough, Gordon was coming to Cronk station. He wasn't meant to stop there, but a distant signal told to him to proceed at caution, and sure enough, a home signal showed red at the station.

His driver was confused by this. "This is very odd," he said, scratching his head. Gordon blew his whistle, to notify the signalman, but the home signal stayed put. The stationmaster then came jogging up to the cab.

"An important train is coming through," he said, "it wasn't put on the schedule not until it arrived at Vicarstown, it's got top priority over every train."

Gordon huffed. "Let's hope it's worth the wait," he said, rather annoyed on the change of plans.

It was only a few minutes until the signalman got the call and set the up line to clear so to go around Gordon. The big engine finally heard the beating of pistons, but it was unlike any other engine who worked on this island, but it did sound familiar.

"It can't be," he murmured, "on our rails?"

His predictions were clarify as true as he heard the high, sharp pitch of a whistle and then a few seconds later, an engine thundered past Gordon. The engine was so unique in shape, it looked like a silver bullet, with white glimmering paintwork and a streamlined form. Gordon didn't have enough time to see it as it was gone just like that.

"Steaming pistons!" the big engine cried, as he watched it's brake coach disappear down the line. "Who was that?"

"A beauty from what I saw," gawked the fireman, who had run to the side of the platform to watch the train go by. "That was an A4 pacific!"

"Yes, thanks for noting out the obvious Clark," said Gordon sarcastically, his eyes then widened as he looked back to his train, "oh dear, I had to decide to pull a train like this on a day such as this!"

*

Gordon finished his run at the yards just before the harbour, and then quickly ran off to the depot in front of the sheds. When he got there, he saw the engine, standing grandly in front of the sheds, humming quietly to himself. Gordon was amazed.

"Who, are you?" he asked.

The engine didn't say anything, he just looked at Gordon and smirked. James, who was admiring the engine on other track, spoke in his place.

"This is Prince Spencer," he declared, "named after King Godred's second son!"

"Huh," said Gordon, trying to sound as uninterested as possible, "I was renamed after his first born son, King Gordon the second!"

"Really," smirked the newcomer, in such a sneering posh manner that Gordon's mind paused. "What were you originally called?"

"Well... erm... after a horse," mumbled Gordon sheepishly, "...Shooting Star."

Prince Spencer laughed, James looked at the big, blue engine in surprised. "You never told me you were called Shooting Star," he whispered to him.

"Really?" said Gordon, "I thought Alice would've told you all by now."

Their small conversation was rudely interrupted by the streamlined pacific. "Unlike you, I was always named after a grand man, certainly a true, pure man."

Gordon's eyes narrowed, he had only met two of his class. Mallard and Sir Nigel Gresley, both were humble as can be. But this, Prince Spencer, was being rude as ever to him.

"Why are you here?" asked Gordon curiously, "and how have I never seen you before?"

"My dear engine," said Prince Spencer smugly, "I was the last to be built for my class but got withdrawn in 1965, they should've kept me on until the end I dare say! But the Duke and Duchess of Norramby decided to buy me a few days after I was put out of service. I stayed in a workshop for an overhaul, it was slow-going since one of the engines the Duke use to own was found in a shed, narrow gauge being picked over me too! The indignity!"

Gordon scowled, the A4 pacific was now being disrespectful towards Duke, who was the big engine had deep respect to! Prince Spencer carried on without the faintest clue of Gordon's expression. "I was eventually completed two weeks ago and now for the celebrations of my return to steam, they're holding a special train for me here on your tiny island! A bit lousy I'll say, not being held at King's Cross but it serves I suppose."

James wheeshed steam angrily, he was now having the extremely similar views on this new guy to Gordon's. "Our island is a safe haven for any steam engine willing to work," he said defensively, "you've just arrived here and looking down on it! Don't you dare think that!"

"Huh!" scoffed Prince Spencer, "Thesang is the closest steam haven there is, and it still looks ridiculous with it's mountainous terrains."

"And you sound ridiculous with your idiotic and outlandish views," Gordon snapped, "James is quite right, don't you dare judge our island, now be off with you!"

"Where shall I go?" asked Prince Spencer, "clearly I can't go near those dirty, small sheds."

"Yes," said James, "and we don't want to go near your dirty, big mouth!"

Prince Spencer growled and puffed pompously away, grumbling to himself.

Gordon and James watched him leave. "I had such high hopes for an A4 pacific like him," the big engine sighed.

"Me too," agreed the red engine, "I swear, we'll be going for a rough one with him around."

Even though he didn't want to, Gordon felt James was right.

*

Prince Spencer was insufferable. He stayed in the yards, gloating in the sun whilst train enthusiasts crowded around him to take their pictures of the private engine. He felt very stuck-up indeed. What made it worse, was that after the Fat Controller had heard about the argument, he made sure to keep Prince Spencer in the sheds so not to get in trouble with the Duke.

No one really talked to him. Prince Spencer kept to himself for the rest of the week. But one evening, Prince Spencer puffed back to the sheds, he had been put into steam all day so to make him ready for his spectacular run tomorrow. He was very eager and very pompous too. Gordon was resting nearby, neither had spoken since the last time they met and felt rather awkward. But just then, Alice the Atlantic Engine puffed in from finishing her passenger run right after Gordon's. She came alongside the big engine, but Prince Spencer sniffed indignantly.

"What's the matter?" asked Gordon.

"I just find it funny that I'm in a shed with two old clankers that's old," said Prince Spencer sweetly, "

Gordon was very cross. "You can talk," he snapped.

"Actually, I can talk," Prince Spencer said proudly, "I'm a streamlined engine, top express engines in the world, the greatest, the grandest. Unlike you two would can be easily replaced, I did see little Gordon with a goods train whilst that diesel pulled the express."

Alice rolled her eyes and ignored him, but Gordon was furious. "You dare come to our railway and sniff your nose on it like your a spoiled prince," he exclaimed, "you're a disgrace to Sir Nigel Gresley! He would be shocked to hear you speak such vulgar!"

"Disgrace!" said Prince Spencer, offended. His boiler pressure going up.

"You heard," snorted Gordon, "now get out of my sight!"

Prince Spencer huffed crossly and entered the shed. Alice, with a raised brow, looked at Gordon. "He's going to complain about this to the Duke," she warned.

"Let him try," said Gordon, "and if I do get in trouble, I'll take with no care in the world."

Unbeknownst to the two engines, a familiar figure had listened to the entire conversation. He turned, and walked thoughtfully away.

*

Morning soon arose, and Prince Spencer was given a full-earned treatment. It was slotted in-between Bear's morning service and Gordon's Wild Nor' Wester. The big engine was left with little attention, he didn't mind, but Prince Spencer took it in stride. "I guess you aren't a marvellous sight to behold," he sneered at the big engine, "A4s are the grandest, never fail to impress after all!"

Donald was ordered to shunt Prince Spencer's coaches, he didn't like it one bit, and unsurprisingly, Prince Spencer did too. "This railway is a joke!" he exclaimed, as Donald began to head out to the coach shed, "no station-pilot and a ruddy Scot shunting my prestigious coaches!"

"Yae want to shut your gob?" asked Donald, in a threatening manner, "or dae yae want to rusty piece of scrap within' tae sea?"

Prince Spencer's boiler pressure shot up and 7was about to speak, but Gordon spoke first. "Donald, be a good chap and show the people at the station on how you shunt the coaches, you make a very good impression I'm sure."

Donald looked at Gordon with a raised eyebrow, but subsided and left to do just that. Prince Spencer sneered at Gordon once again and sizzled nicely in the morning sun. But he couldn't help but feel something lose inside his cab.

Donald shunted Prince Spencer's coaches into the first platform, they were Pullman coaches, the mark two versions with no faces and corridors attachments on each end as a replacement. All were freshly cleaned and looked glamorous. Gordon then came to shunt his express coaches. And a few minutes later, Prince Spencer came through the light engine track from behind the station trying his best to important and grand as can be. Gordon only rolled his eyes, as he shunted his coaches into the third platform. When Gordon went around his train and onto the front of it, Prince Spencer was slowly backing down to his own train, slowly and carefully, his annoying smug face plastered on him. Donald, puffed past him and into the station pilot siding right in front of the signalbox he smashed into in the late 50s. James had also came in, he was taking a goods after Prince Spencer had left but Gordon would overtake him at Knapford Junction, he stood on the goods track near the station, waiting for a green signal. Duck had also arrived with the first passenger train from the Little Western and the Wild Nor' Wester began to gain it's passengers.

The engines waited and watched as Prince Spencer beamed in the spotlight, cameras flashing and people gawking at him. Soon, it was time for Prince Spencer to leave the station. The guard blew his whistle, his shrill whistle blew and he glanced at Gordon with a triumphant smug at him. His wheels began to move and he began to chuff out of the station, pistons beating loudly. The coaches ran behind smoothly out of the station. But as he enter the junction, it happened.

A loud bang came from inside his cab and steam hissed out of it and Prince Spencer began to move slower and slower and he then came to a stop over the points just before the stretch of the mainline. "What happened?" he demanded, with red cheeks, "I don't feel good!!"

"Your safety valve has burst!" coughed his driver, "probably from your many rushes of steam pressure you keep shooting up all the time!"

Prince Spencer's red cheeks spread to all around his face, he felt very embarressed. James, Duck and Donald sniggered where they stood. Gordon couldn't help but grin too. His driver then came up to him. "There's a problem," he said, "now who'll take that train?"

"Couldn't Gordon take it?" suggested Duck innocently, "he's just as strong as those A4s and he knows the line better then that Prince Spencer!"

"Well..." said Gordon, "I could do it, but what about my express? It'll be without an engine if I don't take it. What about you Donald?"

"Och!" chuckled Donald, who was beginning to move out of the siding, "I think I'm better off with goods than express trains! What aboot Jeames? Then I could take his goods."

"I'll be happy to take the express Gordon!" said James happily.

"Right then," smiled the big engine, "that's settle then." And when he was uncoupled from the train, he puffed off to rescue Prince Spencer.

When he idled up next to the broken engine, he all but grinned as he stopped next to him. "WHAT?!?!" snapped Prince Spencer angrily.

"Is this what you meant by never fail to impress?" mocked Gordon.

"Very clever," said Prince Spencer sarcastically, "now take me off this train!"

"Can't do that," replied Gordon calmly, "that'll delay the train even more, and we don't want to burden the others with delaying their trains too."

Prince Spencer was furious. "Bu-But, you can't do that!" he stammered, "I'm an A4 pacific, I have the right to do what I want."

"You certainly did chose to break down," said Gordon wisely, "now do be quiet and keep your brakes off, you've already made yourself look silly today."

Prince Spencer said no more as Gordon was switched to the private engine's track. Then, with his own, Sudrian, loud and proud whistle, Gordon pulled away.

The big engine thundered down the line, his wheels pounding the rails. He concentrated on the track, making sure on where to put more steam in his pistons and when to calm down. His driver and fireman were very impressed and engines would cheer the big engine and laugh at the engine being towed behind who was in shock at Gordon's speed and strength. The run went splendidly and the train arrived at Crovan's Gate, even coming in a few minutes early.

"Now that," smiled Gordon proudly, "was a good run."

Prince Spencer stayed silent. The passengers on the train who thanked Gordon and his crew for a splendid and smooth run, and Gordon soon towed Prince Spencer from behind to the sidings.

A while later, when Prince Spencer was getting checked over, the Fat Controller, Stephen Hatt and the Duke and Duchess came strolling up.

Both engines were surprised. The Duke smiled broadly at Gordon, sitting beside his own private engine. "I'd like to thank you Gordon for pulling our train today. You really saved the day!" he said.

"Thank you sir," Gordon beamed, "I hope I did my best!"

"You certainly did!" grinned the Fat Controller. Then, the Duke turned to Prince Spencer.

"I have been informed," he said sternly, "you have been rude to Sir Charles' engines!"

Prince Spencer's eyes widen, the Duke continued without a second pause. "I won't tolerate engines who treat others like filth, it is disrespectful and vulgar. I chose you over others for the potential you could show to the world, but all you've done is make an embarrassment out of me towards the North Western, the public and the press!"

Prince Spencer gulped and his low lip slightly trembled. "As for this, Sir Charles Hatt and I have made arrangements for you to sleep in a small fitter's shed nearer Tidmouth Harbour so you don't be disrespectful to the other engines in the main engine shed," the Duke said, "we won't be leaving here until next month so change your attitude before it's too late! Do I make myself clear?"

"Y-Y-Yes s-sir," stuttered Prince Spencer meekly.

The Duke nodded and looked back at Gordon. "I think for your gallient rescue today earns you a reward from my wife and I," he said kindly, "how about some new nameplates? I'm sure Sir Nigel Gresley would be pleased to have you properly and officially named after King Godred's first son and next king, King Gordon. And how about you be our private engine whilst we stay here?"

Gordon's smile was so wide that it ached. "Oh, thank you sir!" he said happily, "I promise you, I'll work very hard for you!"

"I know you will!" laughed the Duke, "well.. if your controller approves of course."

"I'll be delighted for you to have one of our great engines," grinned the Fat Controller.

"I'm guessing we have Prince Spencer then?" said Stephen. The Duke nodded.

"Consider it a trade," he said. All four of them agreed to this, Gordon just beamed whilst Prince Spencer just sat sulking in disgrace.

It was soon arranged and Gordon became the Duke and Duchess' temporary private engine whilst going around the railway. Giving railtours or taking his passengers to their destinations. All the engines congratulated him. Prince Spencer on the other buffer had a different arrangement as told by the Duke. He was alligated to the fitter's sheds near the harbour which was small and dirty and he felt very lonely indeed. He was given the task of looking after the Wild Nor' Wester which wasn't that bad, but the engines would always tease him about his misfortunes. Eventually, Donald and Douglas managed to trigger him the most with calling him Spencer and the others began calling him that too and it soon stuck.

And now the A4 private engine is called Spencer now, and he hates it every time.

**A/N: Yeah, Spencer exists in my stupid AU lol and I'm pleased to have him be introduced in it, I originally wanted him to be introduced later but I think it makes sense he's appearing now. **

**Gordon's name history was also inspired by Brighton on Twitter, where he had Gordon be called Shooting Star after a horse, which most of the A1/3 classes were named after. But in my AU, Gordon's name got changed in my AU to King Gordon by Sir Nigel Gresley who did so to give gratitude to Sir Topham Hatt for buying his engine. Gordon's new name was based after the descendant of King Godred II and became a good successor with a brother called Prince Spencer who both were recorded to have a good relationship. Ironic ain't it for the new guys not to haha. Gordon was meant to have new nameplates but he didn't in the end due to many complications.**

**That's basically it really! Thank you for reading this!**


	28. Ep65: Edward

Gordon was doing splendidly. He was recently given brand new nameplates by the Duke and Duchess of Norramby and was now taking their tourist trains across the island, full of enthusiasts. This, was meant to be Spencer's job, but after being rude and vain to the others, he had been put in a dirty little shed near the harbour to not bother the others and had been given the Wild Nor' Wester whilst Gordon did his work instead.

It wasn't all too bad with the work Spencer was given, but he still felt cross in not taking the enthusiasts trains. The others laughed at his dilemma. "It serves you right! It serves you right!" they would chime.

Gordon wouldn't say anything, only look tall and proud at Spencer who would sneer back at him. But one cold day, at the end of September, Gordon's train had to stop at Edward's station, he was to meet a guaranteed-connection with BoCo at the station. He arrived there right on time, Edward sat in the banker's siding.

"Morning Gordon," he greeted warmly, "I see you've gotten a heavier train than usual!"

"Indeed," agreed the big engine grandly, "this is why you're here Edward, no engine can be as good as you on that hill!"

"Oh, I don't know," chuckled Edward, "there are younger engines out there than me who can do better than me."

"Nonsense!" Gordon snorted, "you're a fine engine, looking just as new as any other engine on this island. Speaking of new, how's that new diesel fitting in?"

"Hmm? Oh, our new dockyard diesel? Ah well, he's accidentally went to the Clay Pits and thought he was going to work there, but it was all sorted by the end of the next day!"

Gordon chuckled. "Oh dear," he said, "what's he like?"

"Well..." said Edward, "he's very jolly I tell you and never seems to frown whenever I see him working at the docks. He's pretty much the equivalent of a pirate!"

"Oh?"

"He has a very odd accent like he's come from the Caribbean, he has a huge black beard and looks quite gruff, but he's a kind engine who knows how to shunt trucks! Believe it or not, he can keep Bill and Ben in control when I'm not around."

Gordon blinked. "Those devils?" he said, "and he's not been here for a week yet!"

Edward laughed, just then, BoCo arrived and coasted into the branch line platform. Passengers who were going to have a ride on the big engine's train got on quickly and Alice tooted past on the down line with her usual morning run.

"Can you give me a push up the hill Edward?" Gordon asked.

"Of course!" smiled Edward and quickly went to buffer up behind the train. Soon everything was ready, and with a big, snorting engine up at the front, and an old, but kind engine puffing willingly behind. Edward and Gordon started towards the hill beyond.

"Come on, come on," Gordon huffed as he began to feel the slope.

"We'll do it, we'll do it," puffed Edward.

The morning was damp, with a dark and grey sky. The rails were moist making it difficult for engines to even move their trains at all, Gordon and Edward were finding it especially difficult and found they didn't have a good speed, power or grip like they thought they would.

"More moisture on the rails than expected," noted the driver, as Gordon growled up the slope. "We should've been more prepared."

The train was at a snail's pace when Gordon could see the top of the hill. Both engines could be heard for miles, snorting and panting. But then it happened. Unbeknownst to Gordon and his crew, Edward was having a worse time, he was bearing the same weight as the big engine at the front, but the blue engine couldn't take it like him. His tubes ached and he felt more odd than usual whenever his wheels moved. Suddenly, Edward lost his grip on the rails, his wheels spun quickly.

"Help!" he cried, as the train grind to a holt just before Gordon got to the top. The big engine stopped, Edward's driver tried to regain control of his engine's grip but it was too late. There was a loud bang, followed instantly by clanking and a thud. Edward jumped from the rails, landing back down on them, with his wheels having stopped moving. Gordon's driver stopped his engine and looked back.

"What happened?" asked the fireman.

"Sounded like something valid exploded," stated the driver, looking into a cloud of steam at the end of the train.

"EDWARD!" called Gordon worriedly, he heard coughing and spluttering from the back, and the steam cleared to find the blue engine looking find, but steam was hissing out from his undercarriage and the track looked dented where he stood.

"Are you alright?!" called Gordon again, as enthusiasts poked their head out of the window.

Edward groaned, his face clenched, and said nothing.

*

It was evening by the time Gordon returned to the yards, he wasn't too happy, Edward had been taken to the works and the tracks on the hill needed to be repaired. He went to turn on the turntable, but outside the sheds next to it, was Spencer. He had a wide smirk plastered on his face and Gordon knew where it was heading.

"To think," Spencer began, "that your great Shooting Star could barely get a passenger train up a slope like that on his own would be absurd, but having an old and fragile engine such as Edward be the banker to that hill makes that word an understatement."

Gordon said nothing, as he turned around.

"He should be retired," declared Spencer.

"Don't be daft," interrupted Bear from the other side of the sheds, "Edward is a valuable asset to this railway. He helps us run our trains to time if they're too heavy or we don't have a firm grip when the rails are wet. He's head of the Brendam branch, which stops midway at Sodor's capital, which is quite busy for him, and is the only one that can keep those devils, Bill and Ben, in proper order."

"The first two you can any other engine to do," said Spencer, "one that is stronger, newer and more respectful than you lot. One, that doesn't blow his cylinder that could catch onto his boiler and explode may I say, and from what I've heard, those devils you say have that new diesel over there to control them. Edward's only use at this point is being a hunk of scrap, he should retire and not a moment too soon!"

Gordon and Bear were furious. They were both about to respond, when a blast of a whistle was heard. Duck the Great Western Engine backed in between Spencer and Bear, he had heard enough of Spencer's speech. "You shouldn't be here," he noted, "otherwise your safety valve might burse again."

Spencer's steam pressure went up, but puffed away in a huff. Duck looked at Gordon sympathetically. "Don't feel bad on this one Gordon," he said, "Edward has had a similar incident like this before, he'll make it through."

"I know that Duck," said Gordon, "but that blasted Spencer has no soul whatsoever."

It was three days later when Gordon's tourist runs were done, but Spencer stayed, with Gordon being put on goods work. He didn't mind a bit, but Spencer found it hilarious. He took the mickey out of the big engine every chance he got, deepening Gordon's wounds of guilt for believing he put Edward into the position he was in.

It didn't go unnoticed though.

One evening, Percy had taken a goods train to the harbour at Tidmouth, when he saw Gordon dropping off his own vans there too. Spencer was nearby also, sizzling nicely in front of his shed. He then noticed the private engine laughing at the big engine. The small engine puffed up to them. "What's going on?" he quizzed.

"Oh, you know," smirked Spencer, "little old Gordon being sad for worn out Edward, you should join him on the retirement list my dear chap, best for everyone I suppose."

Percy was shocked by what he heard, but before he said anything, his driver told him they had to go. Whilst heading towards the mainline back to Thomas' junction, Percy saw the Fat Controller standing on the Little Western platform. He gave a peep peep to call out for him. "Sir! Sir!" he cried.

The Fat Controller quickly hurried over to them. "Anything the matter Percy?" he asked.

"Oh, yes sir, there is sir," said Percy sadly, and explained everything to him. Once he was done, the Fat Controller had a very cross face indeed.

"Thank you for telling me Percy," he said, "I'll send to the matter immediately."

Percy felt much better, and puffed off back to the junction.

*

The Fat Controller would usually have told his engines off if they were to bully others, but he knew that this time, he should do it differently. He had made a plan and decided to put it to action as soon Edward came back to his station a week later.

"I hope you're better Edward," greeted the Fat Controller warmly, "but I need your help please."

"Of course sir!" smiled the blue engine.

"I think you and Winston haven't had a good long time working with each other," noted the Fat Controller, "and because of your... strained parts I believe that you might need to go to Winston's branch line, just to ease you back into your own work."

"But sir," Edward protested, worried, "who'll look after my trains here? Donald will have to go back to the Little Western or the mainline by now."

"Which is why Duck will come and do your work," said the Fat Controller, "now of you go! There's a clear path for you on the mainline and Winston shall be expecting you!"

Edward puffed away, slightly reassured, but worried all the same.

When the others heard about this, they were surprised.

"This season is quieter than most," said Bear, "I'm surprised that the Fat Controller decided to have Duck do Edward's work."

"He's a hard worker, and very reliable" added Henry, "but I don't think he'll cope with the workload Edward has."

Spencer, who had heard everything, was curious. "Why's that?" he demanded.

The other two engines glanced at each other. "Duck's water capacity is less than Edward's," Bear explained, "and he won't know how to bank trains up Gordon's hill properly like Edward can."

"He's done it before," said Henry, remembering when he was sent there after a row in the yards had happened, "but he'll be rusty at it."

"Poooooh," snorted Spencer, "banking trains up hills sounds like an easy task for me, all you need to do is push from behind."

"Didn't Douglas squeeze a brake van into little pieces on that hill?" quizzed Bear to Henry.

"He did," said Henry, "made the entire network be examined on how banker's did their work and Edward became the only qualified engine to bank trains up hills regularly, very skilled job in my opinion."

"Donald, Douglas and that BoCo have done though!" said Spencer.

"Because they were trained by Edward when they arrived stupid," Bear replied, getting rather annoyed with Spencer.

"Urrrgh," sniffed Spencer importantly, "you're both idiots, first you say Duck isn't well experienced, then you say that old fart tells them how the other engines to do it! So that fuss-pot will obviously know what to do!"

Henry and Bear rolled their eyes, as Spencer puffed obliviously away.

*

Edward, enjoyed his time on Winston's branch line. It was a nice change and he was welcomed warmly. The blue engine took care of the passengers, travelling through the beautiful countryside.

Duck, on the other hand, wasn't doing so well. The Great Western engine was having a hard time with coping with taking Edward's trains on his branch line, and looking after the banker duties to Gordon's hill.

The mainline engines felt this, and would either have to wait until Duck got refuelled and have to cope with his constant mistakes on the hill. Sometimes, he would push to hard and the rolling stock between would complain about being squeezed. Then other times, he wouldn't give a good enough push and the trains had more of a chance of coming to a standstill so the two engines would have to work extra hard.

Spencer, would get an example of this, when he would have an emergency stop at Wellsworth and have Duck push him up the hill. He hated it, with Duck pushing too hard, even before they reached the hill.

A week had gone by, but Spencer still didn't think Edward was needed on the railway and was useless as scrap. So the Fat Controller decided to think another way of getting to prove Edward's worth.

He headed straight to Gordon to the yards the day Edward would return to his branch. "I need your help," he said, "I want you to take a heavy goods train and stall on the hill, there Edward would go help push. That way Spencer won't think he's not a reliable engine."

Gordon blinked. "This was all--"

"Yes, I know, a scheme to prove Edward's worth," admitted the Fat Controller, "make sure you stop on that hill on the way back before Edward's gets to Wellsworth."

"Yes sir!" said the big engine confidently. He then puffed off to collect his goods.

*

Gordon soon thundering back down the mainline with his returning goods to Tidmouth. He was still wondering what the Fat Controller had said to him. He liked the plan, but didn't think it was good enough. He then headed past Crovan's Gate, where Spencer was at the station, waiting to have a clear path. But Gordon had to take his own train and rush along the line all the way to Maron station where he would stop and Spencer would pass him there.

He soon past Kellsthorpe Road, where Edward sat next to the water tower, filling up for his trip back. Then, an idea flew into Gordon's funnel. "That's it!" he said, "and it's so simple!"

"What is?" asked the driver curiously.

"I just know the perfect way to make Spencer see sense," Gordon smirked.

The driver and fireman looked at each other, rather perplexed. They knew the plan, but Gordon sounded like he made a better one. An unknown plan.

Gordon raced down the line, going faster than he meant to. And when reaching Maron, the signalman was very surprised and didn't expect him to come in so early. He hadn't set the points, and he hadn't set the signal to red. Gordon grinned mischievously, this was his chance.

"What on earth are you doing?" the driver called, but Gordon carried on. He came to the bottom of his hill, but immediately began to slow down. The crew were even more confused, as Gordon puffed up the hill, but getting slower and slower. Until he came to a stop at halfway.

"Oh great!" cried the driver, "we were suppose to stop at Maron but you kept on going and now you've decided to get yourself stuck on your hill! Now the plan won't work at all if Spencer is between you and Edward!"

To the crew's surprise, Gordon chuckled lightly, but said nothing as he plastered a grin on his face.

The guard went to the phone booth at the bottom of the hill, where trains could call a signalman for a banker encase they got stuck. But the signalman was so busy trying to clear a path for Gordon for the rest of the trip, he forgot about Spencer and when getting the call, the private engine whistled towards the station. The signalman dropped the phone and rushed to distant signal to danger. Luckily, Spencer's crew caught sight of this and slowed down the train and rushed through with a slowing pace. The signalman rushed back to the telephone, which was now dangling from the wire off the table.

"It's too late to switch Spencer onto the other line," he called, "you'll have to flag him down!"

The guard groaned and quickly grabbed his red flag from the ground and began to wave it as soon as Spencer came into sight. Both he and his crew saw it and began to slow down instantly, they came to a stop right in front of the brake van on Gordon's train.

"I knew something was off when I didn't see Gordon at that station," said the private engine's driver.

"Indeed," Spencer fumed, "now I'm stuck and won't be able to start! Thank you Gordon, you utter clots!"

"It wasn't my fault," protested Gordon, "the signal was green when I went through and I got confused, so I didn't have enough power to get up the hill!"

"Poppycock!" fumed Spencer.

Gordon just rolled his eyes. "Can't we just help move you instead?" asked Spencer's driver to Gordon's.

"It's worth a try," sighed the Gordon's driver, "but I don't see how your engine can even move both his and our engine's trains at once."

Spencer wooshed steam angrily. "I am one of the most finest engines to ever be built in the entire world!" he fumed, "I won't back down over an idiot who cannot know when to stop!"

So it was quickly arranged. Gordon's crew headed to the engine, and Spencer started up, he buffered up behind the brake van. But as stupid as he thought Gordon was, he had also didn't think on how stupid he was being.

When touching Gordon's train, the big engine couldn't even feel the pressure of the buffers come behind him and the chains loosen. Spencer's wheels just spun and spun. At last, he gave up.

"It's no good," sighed his driver, "we need to a banker."

Gordon snorted. "Guess this is ironic!" he called to Spencer, "I don't know when to stop, and you can't even figure out how to start!"

Spencer wheeshed steam, his steam pressure went up again, but said nothing as his own guard went to the bottom of the hill to ring the signalman.

"I'm sorry," said the signalman, after the explanation had to be told, "but the current banker isn't at Wellsworth at the moment." He then looked out of the window and saw a familiar shape being jolted at the platform. "But... I think you'll have someone else to fill in."

He dropped the phone and got out of the box. "Ahhh, number two," he shouted.

*

"YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE EVEN CONSIDERED TO PASS THAT PREVIOUS STATION!!"

"I was trying to be on time, I only got confused before realising I was early," said Gordon calmly.

"YOU ARE A PATHETIC, LITTLE—"

A shrill whistle interrupted the two engine's arguments. Gordon grinned, and Spencer groaned, as Edward puffed up confidently behind.

"I wondered what was the matter when I heard two engines hadn't cleared their paths at Wellsworth!" he called, "guess I've found the answer!"

Spencer grumbled crossly. Edward's driver then came up to him and his crew. "We've come to push," he said.

"No use at all!" cried out Spencer.

"You wait and see," smirked Edward's driver. All crews agreed to the plan.

Spencer was coupled up to the brake van, and Edward was coupled behind Spencer's brake coach. The blue engine was excited, he was going to be a banker for two trains put together.

He blew his whistle long and loud and with a response from Gordon and Spencer, the strange cavalry set off.

Edward and Gordon puffed as hard as they could, with Spencer fuming and grumbling in the middle, but he couldn't help but notice Edward was pushing much harder than Duck and was doing it in the upmost expertise. And before they all knew it, they reached the top with triumph and began to coast down the other side.

BoCo was amazed when he saw them puff gently into the station. Gordon puffing in proudly with laughing trucks with Spencer following in the middle and Edward puffing hard with red cheeks, but a smile beaming across his face. All three came to a stop, with Gordon and his trucks outside the station. Spencer and the express at the platform and Edward right at the back.

"Look at that!" cried a little boy to his father, who seemed to have come off BoCo's train, "Edward just pushed two trains up the hill! He must be the strongest and the best!!"

Spencer heard everything and his cheeks went redder than ever, he was very embarrassed. The grey clouds had now become low and rain started to fall down on the engines and passenger quickly went to the main station building or to the other train.

Spencer then notice someone walk up to him. It was none other than the Fat Controller, with an umbrella keeping him dry. "You have said rude things about Edward," he said crossly, "not only that, you have kept on with treating my engines appallingly, I've given my report on your behaviour to the Duke himself. I hope you'll be a different engine after this."

Spencer said nothing, as Gordon went onto the goods loop and he scurried out of the station.

Soon after, Spencer left the railway to another place in England. Nobody gave him a goodbye, apart from Edward, but that was him being kind.

Gordon's guilt soon went and he was back to pulling the express as normal. Duck went back to his own branch line, after a day of rest of course. But not all went back to its usual ways. For some reason, BoCo or one of the Scottish twins became banker and the rumours of another engine coming were being heard in the main terminus.

Gordon felt confused by this too, and when seeing Edward about this, (a fortnight after Spencer had left,) on a wet day once more.

"So what's been going on?" the big engine said after finishing his explanation.

Edward smiled. "You see Gordon," he began, "I'm not retiring from running my branch line. But I will be retiring from working as banker."

Gordon's eyes widen. "But... but you can't just leave being the banker," he said, "you've been the bill's banker for so long!"

"Indeed I have," said Edward, "but you must see that I've been the banker for _far too_ long. I'm getting older and older Gordon, my strength isn't what it use to be. Even though that massive overhaul did me good, I'm still not what I use to be."

Gordon didn't say anything, as Edward carried on.

"I bet that the weather won't help me either. We both know Britain isn't a great place for sunny days and we just got lucky on that day, didn't we?"

Gordon hummed.

"I know you don't like it when change happens," Edward said, "but look on the bright side, another engine is coming and they'll be a full-time banker for you all."

Gordon chuckled. "Guess that day when you helped me and Spencer was your last time as being banker then," he said.

"I believe so," smiled Edward, "but I think that was a good way to go out on."

"Indeed," said Gordon, "indeed."

Then his guard's whistle blew, and the big blue engine pulled out of the station. Reminiscing on the past and looking very forward to the future. And it very much had to do with Edward.


	29. Ep66: The Shadow Engine

**A/N: Find this funny since this was suppose to be a spooky story anyways and it's halloween also lol. Enjoy!**

"Why can't you take the trucks back!"

"Because I'm needed here! Manager said so!"

"No he didn't!"

"Yes he did!"

"No! He did—"

"Yaaarrrggh maties, whats seems to be the problem?"

"Bill is saying he's staying here, but we're both needed to go back to the fly pits!" Ben said crossly.

The dockside diesel pondered for a few seconds. "The seas have been quiet like my old key side," he surveyed, "they'll only be needing me 'ere William my chum."

"My name is just Bill," said Bill with a raised eyebrow, "nobody has ever called me William."

"It doesn't matter because you're busted!!" Ben shouted, "you're just lazy!"

"No I'm not!"

"Best argue when taking yar trains maties," said the dockside diesel, "otherwise the clay pits will be wondering where yar arr."

"Yes Salty," said the two twin engines, and they scurried away.

Salty, was the new dockside diesel to the North Western Railway. He was brought since an expansion was beginning to be planned for the clay pits and Bill and Ben would be needed more over there, leaving the docks for possible conjunction.

Salty had became widely known, with his different looks, attitude and nature, he had made quite an impact on not only the dockside, but the railway too.

Bill and Ben found him to be amazing. Often listening to stories constantly when they see him. The trucks were also star-struck by him and the docks had not been so quiet in ages, the workmen were all very pleased.

Recently, Edward had retired from being the banker of Gordon's Hill, and other engines such as BoCo, Donald or Douglas would become the banker with Edward doing the work they usually do if they're on the job. Bill and Ben would see Edward more often now and even though they enjoyed his company at times, found it boring most of the time with not being able to do tricks on either Edward or Salty.

Eventually, the two wouldn't be able to cope when coming to the docks and Bill came up to Ben about it one morning.

"I think we should prank Salty," he declared.

Ben was almost baffled by the idea. "Why should we?"

"Because it's either him or Edward and Y'know what happened last time we did that!"

Ben recounted when they both came to the island and remembered how Edward managed to backfire their most genius plan ever. He knew Salty wasn't as good as Edward and would be easier to trick.

"Alright," he sighed, "let's do it. What do you have in mind?"

"Well..."

"YAAAAAAAAARRRRGGGGGHHHH!!"

Bill and Ben jumped, as Salty popped out of nowhere behind some trucks. "W-W-HOw-WHU-"

"That's what yar geet if ya try to play tricks on me maties!!" exclaimed Salty, still chuckling from the jump-scare he gave the twins.

"How did you hear us?" cried Ben, finally recovering.

"You two better watch yarselfs when talking about tricking me," chuckled Salty.

Bill and Ben looked at each other, and groaned crossly.

"Better be careful around me too," said Salty, "otherwise me shadow engine will come and geet ya."

Bill and Ben looked at each other, then back at Salty confused. "Shadow engine?" repeated Bill curiously.

"Yaaaaar, I'm guessing ya wanna hear all about him now," smiled Salty from under his scruffy black beard.

Bill and Ben peeped in interest and then listened to Salty's tale.

*

_Years ago, an tank engine came to a small harbour somewhere on the south east coast of England._

_He was a lovely chap, worked hard and was loved by all the workmen who had the chance to be near him. The engines who would come to this harbour came out as jolly as can be and would praise this tank engine for all his effort. The lad was happy there._

_Until the diesels came. Immediately, things began to change. Fewer steam engines came to pick up their trains and were replaced by diesels who would laugh and belittle the tank engine._

_The engine didn't try to let it get him down though. He still had his work._

_Until I came._

_I didn't mean to do anything for him. I didn't even know I was going to come and take his work from him. But I did me harties, I came in, saw him, and thought I'd be helping an old steam engine like him. But all I did was take his work, until he was moved into a siding out of the way._

_I didn't even realise what was about to happen when a diesel came to take him away. The tank engine only looked at me then and I looked back and then he swore to forever follow me wherever I go, and I will never forget him. And he was taken away._

_When I realised he was taken to the grave, I mourned him with respecting his work. Eventually, the harbour closed down and I was brought here to help you two lads. But ever since that day when the tank engine had been taken away to be scrapped._

_Strange things began to happen around me ever since._

_Not bad things all the time, but some things that keep me reminding of him. Like trucks being shunted into each other in sidings. But sometimes, he can affect the engines around me too._

_So best be on yar guard._

*

Bill and Ben were in awe. But they quickly shrugged it off.

"What make belief," scoffed Bill.

"Yeah," Ben smirked, "sounds like a downer from you Salty."

Both twins left, leaving Salty alone at the docks.

*

Two days later after Salty had told his story. Ben had came back to the docks. Bill was staying at the clay pits, whilst Salty had went to his small shed near the end of the docks. Ben was on the other side and was all alone with only the trucks and a few of the workmen to keep him company.

He shunted his loaded trucks into a quay and went to find some empties to take back to the pits. When he did, he found men working on some points.

"What's going on?" Ben asked.

"Points jammed pal," replied one of the workmen, "best if you wait for a while."

Ben groaned, he wanted to get back to the shed and rest. He didn't even like staying around the docks at night. It always looked eery to him. The twin engine waited and waited, but the workmen still hadn't made the points work.

Soon, Ben lost his patience. "I'm just going to go to the sheds," he exclaimed, wheeshing steam crossly. But as he began to puff away, he heard a loud bump.

And some trucks from nearby rolled into Ben's sight. Ben was surprised, so was his crew, who looked at the open wagons curiously as they came to slow stop just before some points.

"Are those trucks in use?" he asked the workmen.

"Erm... not from what we know of," replied a workman, "but I think the dock foreman won't mind if you pick them."

"Who moved those trucks though?" asked Ben's fireman, "they surely didn't get moved by Salty. He's on the other side of the docks in his shed!"

Ben pondered, then he remember Salty's story of the shadow engine. He shivered violently and asked if they could collect the trucks, then a brake van and get back to the clay pits. His driver agreed and Ben collected all he needed and set off, rather quickly indeed.

Next morning, he told Bill all about the encounter.

"It was horrible," he said, "those trucks said they felt a bump and thought it was either me or you! But you and Salty weren't nowhere near me! And I was on a different line to those trucks! I think Salty's shadow engine is true Bill!"

Bill laughed. "You're just seeing things Ben, it must've been strong winds, you know what it's like on Edward's branch line and the truck's brakes must've been off! You just think to conclusions!"

"Then take the loaded trucks there tonight then!" huffed Ben crossly, "because I'm not going to go there tonight!"

"Fine," smirked Bill, "then we'll see who's the scaredy engine out of us."

Ben pulled a face at Bill when he puffed off with some trucks in tow.

*

Bill did come into the docks that night. It was less busier than the previous when Ben came, less men were about and nearly all ships and cranes were fast asleep. The twin engine shunted the loaded trucks into a different quay from where Ben did his, but still went over to the same sidings where empty trucks were stored. There were Ben's loaded ones from last night and Bill coupled up to them.

Soon, it was time for Bill to leave. He puffed out of the siding quickly. "No weird things happening to me," Bill puffed triumphantly, "stupid Ben, getting scared from a little ghost."

Then, as Bill puffed over a set of points, he felt something bump him from behind and he leaped off the rails and came to a stop with all of his wheels on the cement of the docks.

"Ouch!" cried Bill, "who did that?!"

He then heard puffing noises from behind him. "Very funny Ben!" exclaimed Bill, "but just because you got scared of a stupid ghost doesn't mean you can make me leave the rails and go swim—!"

A shrill and loud whistle interrupted Bill, who stopped instantly. That wasn't Ben's whistle. Then, the sound of puffing could be heard and then an engine whoosh past Bill so quickly, Bill didn't even see the engine when reopening his eyes. The engine had gone, but Bill's terror had appeared instead.

*

It was morning when Harvey came to lift Bill back onto the rails. Salty came up to see the little tank engine. Bill was frantic when seeing Salty and explained everything to the dockside diesel.

"It was horrible!" cried Bill, "it was nothing I ever seen!"

"Yaaarrrggh don't worry me maty," reassured Salty, smiling at Bill. "Ya'll be fearing no more of me shadow engine, I'll get down to this tonight! But will yar accompany me on this daring adventure?"

"If Ben comes then sure!"

"Great! Harvey?"

"Errrrm... sorry Salty, but I'm needed back at the Works."

"Your lost then!"

*

It was night when Bill and Ben came to see Salty. All their crews had agreed to stay with them so to deal with this problem.

"Told you it was real," said Ben.

"Shut up Ben!" snapped Bill.

"Best me quiet maties," Salty advised, "otherwise me shadow engine will do much more harm to ya!"

"Why did he bump me off the rails?" asked Bill.

"Probably cause ya were being rude," said Salty.

Bill sulked crossly. But all three were interrupted by the sound of strange puffing within the docks. The twin engines gulped and shivered. Salty's eyebrows scrunched up, showing crinkles on his big brow.

"Time to find him maties," he said, determined. He rumbled slowly forward, with Bill and Ben following close behind. Salty didn't look scared at all, and looked through the buildings, ships, cranes and trucks. He rolled along the tracks, looking to see where the engine was.

Suddenly, the puffing stopped and Salty too came to a stop. Bill stopped whilst Ben bumped into the back of him. "Watch it you!"

"MEEEE??!"

"Quiet down me harties," Salty said, silence came flooding around the engines. They waited and listened. Salty looking around the area they had halted in. Then the puffing was heard again, coming from one of the very ends of the dock's quays.

Salty crept slowly forward, Bill and Ben puffed nervously behind. The night light shone their way to the deep puffing noises. Salty roll along, the points changed, Bill went along the track to Salty's left and Ben went onto the right side of the dockside diesel's track.

"Stop maties!" cried Salty. Both engines stopped suddenly. They all looked towards the end of the tracks that headed to the end quays. And there, through the strange, foggy mist, was an engine. With a tall, stinky funnel and what looked side tanks on it.

"_The shadow engine_..." muttered Salty darkly, narrowing his eyes.

Bill and Ben looked over in fear.

"CHARRRRRGGGE!!!!" WAILED BEN. And both twins headed straight towards the black engine within the mist.

"WAIT YOU TWO!!" cried Salty in alarm. "YAR BOTH AREN'T EVEN ON THE—"

Salty's yells were only deafened by Bill and Ben's wails. They headed straight towards the black shape.

"What the—" said the mysterious figure, as Bill and Ben went straight past him and away into the mist, stilling yelling with their eyes closed.

"—right track," finished Salty. He then looked on towards the mysterious figure. It then began to move forward.

Salty then began to relax. "Yar ain't me shadow engine," he chuckled, as an LMS 3F came through the mist and to a stop, looking brand new.

"What?" called the tank engine, with a strong cockney accent.

"Me shadow engine!"

"Don't know what you're on about mate," said the engine, who came straight up in front of Salty.

"Arrr never mind," chuckled Salty, "those two lads that went past you thought you were a ghost!"

"A ghost you say?" said the engine with wry smirk, "now that's new. Names Jinty by the way."

"Ahhh, are yar the new banker then?" Salty asked curiously.

"Yeah," chuckled Jinty, "only came up here to bring some goods. Shunted them, then got greeted by those blighters that shot past me!"

Salty laughed loud and long. Eventually, Bill and Ben came back, looking very embarrassed when seeing the tank engine up close and very real indeed.

"We're sorry for that," said Bill, "we must've scared you from yelling like that."

"Naaah," said Jinty, "I'm fine. Turned out you weren't though!"

Bill scowled at that. "At least we aren't from south!" he said, "never like London engines!"

Jinty smirked at that. "Innit," he replied simply.

*

The new tank engine was properly introduced to the railway the next day. Becoming the number fourteen of the North Western Railway.

You also might be wondering whether if this was the same Jinty from when the first eight engines went to England and he came to take Thomas' stead for a while.

Yes. This is the same Jinty, the Fat Controller actually found him from an industrial estate, he was apparently brought because of being feature in the book "Eight Famous Engines" and worked there until they brought a diesel four years ago and remained in a siding, still maintained enough to be quickly brought by the Fat Controller and to only be in the works for two weeks when arriving.

What about the shape engine? Bill and Ben rather not mention it. Bill is still sulky even to this day about Jinty bumping him and Ben can still be put in a bad mood for a few minutes when getting told about getting scared of Jinty bumping the trucks.

But unbeknownst to them, Salty was told by Jinty that he only came to Edward's branch line the exact same day he met the trio.

So who bumped those trucks? Who bumped Bill of the rails?

Salty prefers to not tell Bill and Ben about the sad, dark truth. About the engine, who's as dark and as quiet as anything. About an engine, who lost everything to a dockside diesel.

Boo.


	30. Ep67: Thomas and Jinty

**A/N: Wrote this in one day, surprising nowadays for me lol. This is also a spooky story which I think you all will love, because I personally loved writing it! Enjoy!**

The new engine, Jinty, had return to Sodor to become the banker to Gordon's Hill. The engines were glad to have him and something new and Edward was teaching him well. Jinty was glad to be a North Western engine.

"You've worked on these rails, but when you're brought by them you feel like you're safer and protected and more... free!" said Jinty.

Winston smiled at this. "I understand how you feel," he agreed, "you feel you've become apart of this railway, or the railway has become apart of you."

Percy the Small Engine, was very excited. He hadn't seen Jinty in ages and was looking forward to their reunion. Thomas, on the other buffer, wasn't too keen. Last time, he had met Jinty, he had crashed into some buffers whilst showing off to him and was seen as a joke to the shunting engine when moving him away from them.

The tank engine didn't want to see him, but his timetable said otherwise with no trains coming or going at the junction until Jinty left with Percy's goods, and the small engine hadn't even arrived yet!

Thomas huffed in siding that morning. Wondering on how the conversation would turn out. At last, he heard an unrecognisable whistle, but he instantly knew that it was Jinty. The shunting engine arrived with a small goods, proud and happy, stopping on the line next to the platform track. He looked around, eyes seeming settled in a place of nostalgia. He looked over at Thomas and smiled.

"Ahhh, didn't recognise ya there pal," he joked, "you've changed your look! Gone to Thesang I presume with that livery?"

Thomas looked back, he had went to an island called Thesang to be overhauled there and had kept that livery ever since. The tank engine looked back at Jinty. "Yes I did," he replied simply, "I see you've stuck with the BR black though."

"Indeed I have," smiled Jinty proudly, "I'm proud of it! BR days weren't the best for every engine but they were a happy time for me back in Euston."

"Number fourteen too."

"Yep! Even though I like to keep my BR heritage, I decided to go with a sort of hybrid with the livery and have my North Western number on me instead!"

"Y'know we're still apart of the British Network," Thomas said appointedly.

"Yeah, I know," said Jinty, feeling the tension rising from the tank engine. "I'm just saying--"

"JINTY!!"

The conversation was immediately stopped by Percy who came to a screeching stop next to Jinty. "Percy!" the shunting engine grinned, "how have you been buddy?"

"Much better now! Thomas kept on going about you with you taking his trains over him instead."

Thomas went red and huffed crossly in his siding. Jinty smirked widely at the tank engine. "Did he now?" he said, "I'm guessing he's thinking about how good I am that I could replace him on this line."

Thomas gritted his teeth.

"I'm guessing that's fair," Jinty continued, "probably because he doesn't know how to stop at stations. Or anywhere in that matter!"

He then paused and looked to one of the sides of Thomas' face, a long, dark scar going down him from his forehead, to the side of his eye. "And there's proof with that scar too!" he laughed.

Thomas immediately wheeshed steam crossly, Percy gasped in surprised, Jinty just kept on staring at the tank engine. He knew by Percy's reaction he might've gone a step too far, but it was too late now. Thomas glared, wide-eyed at the shunting engine. "You want to go?" he asked darkly.

"Want a scrap?" replied Jinty.

"Of course an engine from London with a cockney accent says that violence is always the solution," Thomas sneered, "no, I'm talking about you and I doing a competition. We give each other a task to do and once we've done, we give the other a different task to do. The one how succeeds the most in these tasks is the better engine and has bragging rights throughout the remainder of our lives. How's that?"

Jinty blinked, surprised at what he had heard. But Thomas looked stern. He huffed, looked at Percy, then back at the tank engine, with a short huff like chuckle. "Alright mate," he smirked confidently, "who goes first?"

"I say you," Thomas replied, "try pushing your trucks back to Wellsworth without no consequence."

"Easy," Jinty agreed.

"Right," said Thomas, "now please excuse me, I'm going to those sidings on the other side of the station, so I don't get ganged up on!"

He then puffed off, leaving a confident Jinty and a very worried Percy. "You shouldn't have made that remark," said Percy.

"Why?" asked Jinty, "he had an accident didn't he? Probably smashed into a brake van and it's roof made the cut when he went flying!"

"No."

Jinty raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean; no?"

Percy sighed. "No one knows what happened to Thomas," he explained, "what did he look like back when you first met him?"

"Well..." pondered Jinty, "he had a different paintjob back then, like that Gordon chap. And his running board was much different, it's much flatter and he has a splasher and his tanks are much lower... and then there's that scar he got so wound up about."

"Well... there's a reason for all those changes."

Jinty looked at Percy, urging him to continue, he did. "In 1961, strange incidents and odd occurrences began to happen. Thomas and Duck were the only ones to take action on these... they eventually formed a friendship from this and one night, decide to go to a facility further up north, so they can get answers from an organisation called Sodor Research. But major events happen that night that I don't entirely know of, but to put it simply, our own private military, Sodor Royal Forces planned a secret raid on the facility, but the facility got blown up and Thomas got majorly damaged through all of it. So much so, that he had to go to Thesang for his repairs, it took them four years..."

Jinty gawked at Percy's explanation. "That sounds... well..."

"It's not very pleasant," said Percy sadly, "Thomas never likes talking about that night with us, whenever we mention it or his... scar he'd just go all dark and weird and have a grudge on you for an entire week without no boundaries whatsoever on his temper on you."

Jinty sighed. "I didn't think that."

"No one does," said Percy, he looked back at his reunited friend, "take care with Thomas."

Jinty hummed an agreement.

*

The set of challenges were instantly a challenge for both tank engines. Throughout the month, they gave each other challenges, neither wanted to be defeated by the other and were determined to be the better engine.

Sometimes, one would succeed on their challenge, sometimes not.

But eventually, they too were getting fed up with it. Neither giving up and both were neck and neck.

One afternoon, just after lunch, Thomas arrived at Edward's station with a train of trucks, with Annie and Clarabel at the back of the train. Jinty watched as Thomas came in with a grumpy look. "Tadaaa," said Thomas sarcastically, "did that. Now, it's my turn."

"No. No. No, said Thomas' driver, "I've had it! We've been questioned by staff and even had to go to the Fat Controller's office to deal with this! I ain't doing one more of these challenges!"

"I agree with him!" Jinty's driver added, "we've been doing this constantly throughout the month and you're both drawing at the moment! You both ain't getting anywhere!"

Both tank engines looked at each other. "Then shall we do then?" asked Jinty curiously.

Thomas pondered for a moment. "I think," he said, "that we need to do a final challenge, together, but not with our strengths through physicality, but our strengths through mentality."

"So what are you saying?" asked Jinty.

"Isn't there that new smelter and scrapyard between here and Suddery?" quizzed Thomas curiously.

"Well... yeah," Jinty replied, "but no one is allowed down there apart from Edward and BoCo."

"Exactly," said Thomas, "there could be something down there, must be terrifying, could give us a challenge."

"Are you saying that, we should go down that line, and whoever gets scared first loses completely?"

"That's my proposition," said Thomas, "but if you have a better way to solve this, then talk away!"

Jinty thought for a second, then sighed. "Alright then," he said, "I'll do it."

"Good," said Thomas, "we'll do it tonight."

"Do what tonight?"

Thomas and Jinty turned to see Edward come up to them. "Oh..." said Thomas.

"We were talking about Thomas coming to the docks with me tonight," said Jinty quickly, "help me with some shunting there."

"Salty is over there though," said Edward, suspicious.

"I've asked Salty, he said he's happy for the break!" said Jinty, "besides, I'm sure you're not too worried about us, aren't you."

"You know us Edward," said Thomas, "we aren't like Bill and Ben."

Edward hummed quietly. "Wait a second!" he snapped, glaring at Thomas.

The tank engine tensed up. "Why are Annie and Clarabel on the back of your train?" Edward asked.

"Oh," Thomas looked back meekly, "they wanted to travel somewhere different today, told them it wasn't going to be a pleasant ride."

Edward took a deep breath and sighed. "Tank engines at this day and age," he said, exhausted and puffed away to the turntable.

Thomas and Jinty looked at each other, and smirked.

*

Both engines met at the yards close to midnight, Edward and BoCo were asleep by then and Sodor was as quiet as ever.

Both engines crept away, down the line towards the smelter and scrapyard. When both engines got to the points, Jinty's confidence was beginning to dwindle. "I don't think we should do this anymore Thomas," he advised.

Thomas only sniffed. "Want to back out already Jinty?" he said cheekily, "and we haven't even got onto the line yet."

Jinty said no more, and once the points were set, both engines puffed down the singular track. It was quite narrow the cutting was, Thomas wondered how BoCo could even fit through here, whilst Jinty looked nervously up, dark, black trees were above the cutting, trying to cover the night sky, it made the track feel like a tunnel made by nature, trying to take man-made, living engines away.

At last, they arrived at a gate, luckily, it was open and Thomas puffed slowly in, with Jinty following close behind. The engines puffed slowly through the cold and dark place. Trucks laid everywhere, barely arranged neatly and in random positions such as empties being in between loaded ones.

There were more flatbeds than anything, with rusty, old parts of any kind littered on top. But what made it worse was what was littered all around the ground. There, next to the line side, were not just parts, but old cars and engine boilers. Faces ripped off or white as ghosts. Jinty felt uncomfortable and not well at all. He had only been in a scrap siding and hadn't gone anywhere near a scrapyard... until now. He could only imagine the engines who were sent to places like these, and meet their ends like this. It was awful.

Meanwhile Thomas, was grumbling to himself. He was secretly having the same thoughts and feelings as Jinty, but didn't want to let on by it.

They both wondered the yards, they were emotionally drained by the end of it. They both agreed to head back to Wellsworth and see how much sleep they could get after this. But then, Thomas notice the biggest building of them all. A massive smelting shed stood above the rest of the smaller buildings, its orange and red light flickering from inside and machines being heard also. Devouring metal of any kind.

"Why don't we go in there," said Thomas, coming to halt, and heading over to the shed. Jinty quickly stopped and followed Thomas all the way to the shed doors. Both on individual tracks now and when the giant, hard doors opened, they looked inside the smelting shed. Heaps of metal laid all around the place and it was incredibly hotter from the outside world with sparks flying everywhere, a controlling station put next to the lines and a giant claw like machine hung above the tracks.

Jinty gulped as sparks flew from the ceiling's wiring.

Thomas sniffed. He didn't like either, but he didn't want to lose. "I'll go first!" he said, and move slowly forward and into the shed. His crew didn't like this.

"We should go back," his driver told his engine, as they went under the giant claw.

"Pah!" Thomas said, "I'm not going to be defeated like this! Besides, it's only a shed, what's it going to do?"

The shed was long, and the red fumes made it impossible to see the end of the shed. Thomas went through it and disappeared. Jinty peered through and tried to see the tank engine. But nothing could be seen.

At first their was silence.

Then a loud yell could be heard, echoing through the shed. Jinty's eyes widen, as Thomas reappeared through the red mist. He was going at an incredible speed and his wheels pounded the rails like never before. He was frantic.

"RUN!! GET AWAY!!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!! NOT AGAIN!!!!!" he cried out loud and ran past Jinty. The shunting engine didn't even question it, he didn't want to stay here any longer and darted off right behind Thomas without looking further inside the shed again.

Both engines raced away from the smelter land scrapyards, one crying out and in absolute terror and the other panting with panic within his breath.

*

The yards at Wellsworth were silent, Edward and BoCo were fast asleep. Getting their rest for another busy day for tomorrow. Then, both engines woke up from the sounds of screaming and whistling, and Thomas, raced through, not looking out for anything and was diverted onto the goods loop and then onto the mainline, racing away as fast as he could, still yelling pleads of mercy.

Then, Jinty came next, he braked hard and came to a stop. He panted hard, trying to get his breath back from running for dear life and almost having a panic attack. He eventually did and sighed deeply.

"Jinty!" called a stern voice.

The shunting engine stopped and looked back nervously to the sheds. "Errrrm... yes, Edward? Can I help you?"

"Ask me this," said Edward sharply, he sounded almost furious, "did you and Thomas go to the smelters yard?"

Jinty said nothing, he only looked at his buffers in shame. Even though he couldn't be seen from either Edward's and BoCo's point of view. The blue engine groaned mournfully.

"This is not a good sign at all," he said to BoCo.

Jinty glanced back. "What do you mean? Not a good sign?" he questioned, "do you know what Thomas saw?"

Edward paused for a second, he then sighed. "Guess you didn't see what Thomas saw then."

"No. No I didn't."

"Good," said BoCo crossly, "because you weren't meant to see it anyways. The Fat Controller will be hearing about this!"

Jinty said no more, he only closed his eyes, and tried thinking of any of the beautiful places on Sodor, that wasn't the smelters yard.

*

Thomas kept on running all the way to Tidmouth yards in where the driver after much attempt, manage to stop his engine just before reaching the harbour. He stayed there all night, crying and was greeted by a very angry Fat Controller.

"What were you doing at the smelters yard near Suddery with Jinty last night?!!" he thundered.

Thomas still trying to recovered, tried to assembled words. "Well-I-J-J-Jint-Jinty-a-and-I-Well-I-Ur—"

The Fat Controller sighed, realising how bad the situation was now. "This must be very hard for you," he said,but you must understand—"

"I c-can't, s-s-sir," stammered Thomas, his lip trembling and his eyes, still shaking with fear.

The Fat Controller nodded and patted him on the buffer. "I completely understand your reasons," he said calmly, "I'll give you time to recover from this awful shock you have. The others can manage. But don't think you'll be getting away with a punishment anytime soon."

And he left Thomas alone in the yards, still trembling from the night's awful shock.

But I shan't say anymore, otherwise I'll spoil the stories that are to follow.


	31. Ep68: Better Late Than Never

**A/N: Will say the remainder of this season, all stories are based in 1975. This was hard one since I didn't know where to go with this one, then thought since I wanted to write one of the worse stories from the classics and I wanted to write something about Bertie and I also wanted to do a story about Oliver too! So this turn out well I guess.**

After going to the scrapyard, Thomas felt very ill, white covered his usual darker tone face and he couldn't steam properly. The Fat Controller decided to have the tank engine be put out of service for a while until he felt better, this meant that Thomas' passenger services were in need of another engine. So the Fat Controller decided to bring in Oliver from the Little Western branch line. The western engine felt happy by this, he hadn't work on other parts of the railway before and was keen to impress. But with one problem solved, another began.

The viaduct on the mainline was in need of maintenance and the Fat Controller decided to have Harvey and the permanent way to go and strengthen it's arches. This made life difficult for the mainline engines, with only one track to get across, and having a restricted speed limit when crossing the viaduct with their train, this made go at risk for being delayed and this can cause them to be late throughout the remainder of the journey, including connecting trains on branch lines.

Oliver understood the situation and felt for the mainline engines, but was still a little annoyed by this. One morning, the western engine was waiting at the junction for Alice's branch line flyer. When she arrived, she was seven minutes late. "Viaduct kept you again?" asked Oliver, an annoyed expression on his face.

"Indeed," Alice sighed, "I do apologise for this, but I can't do anything about it, otherwise if we go across at our top speeds, the viaduct might collapse!"

"I understand what can happen," Oliver said, "and I'm not cross with you."

Alice then raised an eyebrow. "Then who you're cross with then?" she asked.

The western engine was about to reply, but the guard's whistle blew and he had to leave, with Annie and Clarabel coming along behind him.

You see, it wasn't only the railway that was effected by this maintenance, the Sodor Bus company had a contract with the North Western, where some buses and trains had no choice but to wait until the other arrived, Bertie the Bus had one of these guaranteed-connections and usually arrived after Thomas did, but his passengers found out that instead of being greeted by a tank engine at the station, filling up on water for the return run back down to the junction, there was no engine insight.

Bertie grew impatient, he would usually leave to head back to Ulfstead with Thomas' passengers but Oliver hadn't arrived yet making him wait and getting late. And today Bertie was fed up and was cross with the western engine.

"Late again," he remarked, as he heard Oliver's whistle and the green tank engine panted wearily in.

Bertie noted Oliver's exhausted expression, but was too cross to care. "You're getting later and later every day!" he said, "I can't wait around just for you y'know! There are other passengers on my route and they cannot be delayed by you!"

Oliver felt hurt. "It's not my fault that trains are getting delayed!" he said defensively.

"Oh really?" Bertie replied, as Thomas' passengers quickly got into him, "none of this ever happened when Thomas was here."

"Well, I'm not Thomas!" said Oliver.

"Evidently not!" said Bertie, "he's never usually late and his line runs like clockwork!"

"I don't think it does all the time."

"Well, my services always do! Never a complaint that's me."

"Better late than never for me," Oliver muttered.

"Well, my manager is making arrangement in until your trains become more reliable, we won't be having our connections with you as much as we use to." And Bertie fumed away, leaving Oliver cross and hurt.

Later that night, he told Toby and Percy all about what Bertie had said.

"He's just like Thomas," Toby soothed, "he wants things kept to time and he just wants to be seen as reliable."

"He's not keen on being sympathetic though," Oliver said.

"Give him time," Toby added, "he'll come round to you eventually."

Oliver knew the tram engine was trying to be helpful and wise, but he wasn't all too convinced on his last sentence.

The next day, Oliver was waiting at the junction once more, sizzling nicely coupled up to Clarabel. James soon came in, whistling frantically and very late indeed. "I'm sorry Oliver," he said wearily, "I was held up at Vicarstown and the viaduct made it worse."

"At least you've got my passengers here safely," Oliver said, knowing full well, that he was later than yesterday and Bertie would be gone half an hour before he'd even arrive at Ffarquahar.

He left the junction and rushed down the branch line. "Hurry along! Hurry along!" he called to the coaches.

"We can't be late! We mustn't be late!" sang Annie and Clarabel, trying to do their best. But Oliver wasn't use to them unlike his own Isabel and Dulcie figured he couldn't make up most of the time he had lost.

"Oh dear," he panted, "I'm sure Bertie is gone by now!"

Oliver eventually arrived at the top station and his crew couldn't see Bertie anywhere! "Bother!" exclaimed Oliver, "this week couldn't get better can it!"

His driver went to the stationmaster and came back with a curious expression.

"What's the matter Jacob?" asked the fireman.

"Bertie hasn't even arrived yet," said the driver, "he was meant to leave here to ten minutes ago too!"

Oliver was puzzled. "But how?" he quizzed, "he's never usually this late."

He went to go around the train, Bertie didn't show up. He stopped at the water collumn in front of the platform, still, Bertie didn't show up. And when Oliver was fill to the brim with coal and water and backed down on Annie to couple up and reheat the coaches, Bertie still hadn't showed.

He was beginning to get concerned, some passengers boarded the train but not as much as Bertie would've brought. By now, Bertie would've made two trips from Ulfstead today, but none had been made.

The guard whistle soon blew, but Oliver didn't leave. "What are you playing at Oliver?" asked the driver, "y'know we have to go."

"But our passengers haven't all arrived yet," protested Oliver, "we mustn't let them down."

"Y'know Bertie would've left us anyways if we came in late," the fireman said, "y'know this is utter karma for him."

"But I'm not leaving because of him," scowled Oliver, "what about the passengers? They don't deserve being left behind!"

"Oliver," said the driver sternly, "we have to go."

"Not yet!"

His driver then turned the control lever, with him now able to control his engine. He was about to turn off the brakes and open the regulator, when there were two honks coming from the road. He looked back and saw two, unfamiliar buses come skidding into the station yard, panting heavily.

"Thank goodness you're still here!" groaned one of the buses. Oliver looked to see all the missing passenger scramble out of the buses and towards the station.

"What happened?" asked Oliver.

"That silly ol' Bertie," the other bus said, a scowl came across his face, "his radiator failed and he overheated, took a while to get there since the roads aren't the best and another of us was ordered to fill in on the other trip Bertie missed out on."

"And we're still running late too," the first bus finished, "did you wait for us?"

"Well... yes I did."

"Brilliant! Absolute brilliant!" cried out the second bus.

"Quick Oliver!" called the driver, "our connection isn't guaranteed and I don't think Henry will be too pleased if we're late!"

The guard blew his whistle again and Oliver quickly left the station. The western engine was luckily built to go fast with his big wheels. He expected to be a late at every station, but no fuss was made when he was at them. Passengers got in quickly and porters rushed around frantically. Oliver guessed they knew he was running late and passengers were at risk for being left behind at the junction if he got there late.

The western engine hurried along, he was going faster than ever before. Oliver tried not to overwork himself and he bucketed along the line. His driver watched carefully as they ran and at last they puffed into the junction's station, where Henry had just arrived.

The green engine looked surprised by Oliver's red and exhausted face.

"What happened to you?" he asked and the western engine explained everything. Once he was finished, the green engine smiled back at him. "Good work then," he complimented, "you certainly showed that bus company a thing or two!"

The guard blew his whistle and Henry set off, in high spirits indeed, leaving Oliver rather tired out, but pleased.

A week went by and the railway was doing very well indeed. Oliver's story had been passed around and the mainline engines were motivated by this, they ran their trains like clockwork. Going slow over the viaduct, coordinating with each other on which train had priorities over which at night or morning, and would try there best to gain back the time they had lost on the viaduct. It wasn't the best, with trains still running late, but it was better than before and the Fat Controller congratulated them.

"Once the viaduct is finished you'll all get new coats of paint," he promised, this left the mainline engines very pleased indeed.

One morning, Oliver was resting at Knapford, when he heard a honk of a horn. He then saw a familiar red bus screech into the yards. "Sorry Bertie," smirked the western engine, "but you're a week late."

Bertie went bright red as his paintwork. "I—erm, sorry about my previous behaviour," he said apologetically, "I was being selfish and didn't understand how it was effecting you the same as me. I've never met you before this y'know, and with Thomas out of action for unexplained reasons well..."

"You're just worried about him," Oliver finished, Bertie hummed a response and then there was silence.

"Listen..." said Bertie, breaking the silence at last, "I think we should start again, don't you agree?"

Oliver grinned. "Of course!" he said. And with a last cheerful greeting, the two new friends headed back to work.

Thomas soon got better and Oliver was eventually sent back to the Little Western. Duck and the Scottish twins had to cope with his bragging for a while about how he put the railway back together, but eventually managed to shut him up.

As for Bertie, he is running his service as splendidly as he did before and I don't think that'll ever change. Don't you?

*

"I will find a way."


	32. Ep69: Red Torches

**A/N: Was gonna do a different story about Winston, but since I got this idea one night to adapt one of the old episodes from the Hit era of the show... yeah. It's obviously very late from starting this at the beginning of November haha. But its been a busy month for me if you can understand. Hope you all enjoy this story!**

Throughout first meeting each other, James and Winston have always had some sort of rivalry between them. Most engines knew why, with Winston being an engine whose drawings were sold to the Furness Railway which modified them to become the D5 class without the front pony-truck. Whilst James had been modified himself with his own front pony-truck. Even though this was a coincidence with them having different looks to their brothers and sisters. Both engines thought the other looked silly with it at the front. There was also the red coat they both wore.

Even though Winston had had his own red coat as part of the livery most of the transport his old loaning company had, he decided to keep it. James got his own red coat as an experiment to see what livery a mix-traffic engine should have on the NWR, though Bertram Topham Hatt decided that in the end James can keep the coat as to help him get better after his accident on his first day.

James and Winston would quarrel with each other at times and would try anything to get the other one all riled up. Even though it hadn't caused any trouble for the railway, that would soon be irrelevant with one cold, November day.

It was to be Bonfire Night on the island, where a massive bonfire would be built at Kellsthorpe or Haultraugh with fireworks being lit up for it. Their games and songs played at the fields there and many people cam across the island just to go to these events. Usually, Edward or the Scottish twins would take a special train full of equipment the very day the event would happen at night, vans full of wood and fireworks.

But this year that was going to change.

That morning, Winston had arrived at the depot in front of Tidmouth sheds. James was most surprised to see him, since he only came up here most of the time with his usual weekly goods.

"What are you doing here?" he asked curiously.

"Donald and Douglas are running my line, whilst the Fat Controller has asked for me to come here," Winston explained, "can't understand why though, it must be very important."

"Indeed it is!" said a familiar voice. Both red engines looked down to see not the Fat Controller, but his own son, Stephen Hatt.

"Ahh, hullo Mr Hatt," Winston greeted warmly, "I'm guessing you're the man to tell me what I'm doing here?"

"Yes I am," said Stephen, with a brief smile in return, "ever since it was agreed upon, Edward was to take the train for Bonfire Night across the island to it's destinations, and then Donald or Douglas would take it in turns. This year, the Fat Controller has thought that you have done spectacular work on his railway and as a reward, wants you to take the train of equipment for Bonfire Night tonight!"

Winston was astounded and pleased. "Thank you very much sir!" he said happily, "please give my gratitude to your father, next time you see him!"

"Oh don't you worry," chuckled Stephen, "you can give him your thanks when you go to Haultraugh tonight, he'll be waiting for you there."

James, who had been listening, was very cross. "I was the first ever red engine to be officially owned by the North Western!" he exclaimed crossly, "I've worked harder than hotshot over there!"

"I'm sorry James," said Stephen, "but those were my father's orders."

The red engine huffed. "Don't you worry James," Winston said cheekily, "maybe get your wheels painted red like me, then you might have a better percentage of getting the train."

He puffed off, chuckling, whilst James only seethed. He then looked at Stephen with a raise eyebrow. "So, you've now become your father's messenger boy now?" he said.

Stephen looked at James, he opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. He just shaked his head and walked away.

*

It was the afternoon when Winston came casually into Barrow yards. He noticed the Norramby diesel sitting crossly in a siding, waiting for his own train.

"Heh, being lazy again?" Winston teased.

"Oh bugger off you stupid oaf," snapped the Norramby diesel.

Winston just puffed away from the depot with a wry smirk. He found the vans in one of the sidings in the yards. "Are these for me Splatter?" he called to the diesel shunting nearby.

"Hmmm, oh yeah they are," Splatter replied, "just don't blow yourself up with them."

"We don't want you go out with a bang!" added Dodge nearby with a cheeky grin. The two diesels laughed in the weirdest way imaginable.

Winston just sighed. "You two are the strangest diesels I've ever met," he said.

"Why thank you," smiled Dodge.

"And we're only kidding about the pun thing," said Splatter, "we wouldn't want you die for stupid reasons cause you might have to die at a later basis!"

"What are you on about?"

"...Don't look at me, Splatter said it!" whined Dodge.

"C'mon old boy," called Winston's driver, "don't bother with talking with them, everyone around these parts no they're crazy."

"Indeed..." said Winston, he pulled off with his vans as smoothly as possible. No sooner had he disappeared. Dodge's smile fell into a frown.

"Hey wait a minute! He just called us strange!"

"Well done genius," replied Splatter.

"You haven't even noticed it yet!" cried out Dodge.

"Really?" Splodge said, "I'm smart enough to know what he said."

*

Winston puffed proudly down the line, he felt very proud of pulling the train. He managed to get to Crovan's Gate were a few fireworks would be given to the Skarloey engines, who would also have their own festival up at their lake. Winston came into the station where he would be ready to shunt his train. James soon arrived with a stopping service, he smirked broadly as Winston shunted some vans into the standard gauge sidings for the Skarloey wharf.

"Well, well, well," said the red engine musingly, "I see that you've become the oh so great shunting engine."

Winston said nothing, as he was uncoupled from his vans.

"I thought since you were a red rocket, you would've been gone by now," James continued, as he halted at the station, "but then again, you aren't me."

"What do you mean?" asked Winston, as puffed back to his vans at the platform.

"You're not suited for that train," said James firmly, "most of the time the others are early, but you're running late."

"Only by a few minutes," muttered Winston's driver.

Winston looked at the clock and no doubt, James was right, he was running a little late. "Well, I'll make up for lost time then!" fumed the midland engine, as he buffered back up to the remaining vans.

"I'd like to see you try," chuckled James. They remained silent after that, as Winston departed, he was determined to get to Kellsthorpe on time.

Winston rushed down the line, he managed to get to Kellsthorpe on time, but came a sudden stop. Quickly, the workmen unloaded the crates from the vans and Winston had to leave, but he puffed off too quickly.

He was rushing again down the mainline, his driver was getting concerned. "We aren't late anymore old boy," he called to his engine.

"If we're not early, we're late," Winston said simply, he was about to rattle past Killdane, when there was a loud clang, and the midland engine came to a rough stop right next to a signal box. "What happened?" he said in surprise.

His driver examined him. "You've got something loose," he said finally, "but I can't look at it until you've cooled down."

"Oh that's just perfect," Winston grumbled, "how will this train move now?"

"Probably by another engine," replied the driver plainly, he then went to the signal box to call for help.

James had just gotten to Crovan's Gate light engine, when he saw the station master waving a red flag on the platform. 'Oh bother,' thought James, 'what's the matter now?'

"Anything the matter?" asked James' driver.

"Indeed," said the stationmaster, "Winston has broken down at Killdane station. Do you mind taking him the rest of the way?"

"Not a bit sir," James smiled, he quickly puffed to the situation. He was looking very forward to seeing Winston indeed. The red engine found the midland engine at the signal box, sulking quietly to himself.

"Hello Winston!" James whistled brightly.

"Oh no," said Winston, "you'd better keep quiet James!"

"Why should I?" asked James musingly, "I'm enjoying."

"Didn't even noticed," replied Winston sarcastically, "just please, keep to yourself."

"Alright," said James, as he was coupled up to the brake van, "you keep quiet too in return, because unlike you, I've got sparks."

"Yeah," said Winston, but he held his tongue, as James pushed the train off again.

Now, because of the time lost, James and his crew decided to push the train along so not to run around Winston, that and the red engine didn't want to go near the midland engine. But James couldn't see straight ahead, and didn't know where to stop. Both red engines refused to talk to each other though, making it even worse for the others.

"This won't go on too well," sighed James' driver, "I can feel something will come up badly for us!"

Unfortunately, he was right.

Because of the delay, Edward's train to Tidmouth was allowed to past, leaving the track uncleared for the red engines' train. The distant signal appeared in the distance near Wellsworth. Winston sighed, knowing the reason why. He expected for James to slow down, but he didn't, James kept rolling along at the same pace, without slowing down.

"Um... James?" Winston said, unsure.

No response.

"James?!"

"I thought we agreed to keep quiet!" called back James.

"But James!" cried Winston, "the signal is red!"

James' driver poked his head out of the window and sure enough, the signal after the Wellsworth platform was red. "Stop James! Stop!"

The red engine's brakes screeched on, they were going faster than expected and the train rattled past the platform and further down the mainline. James groaned whilst Winston could only yelp as with every inch, the train became slower and slower. And at last, Winston's wheels came to a stop, with his front pony truck just centimetres from the unset points to the goods loop.

"What was that all about?" cried Winston.

"Well... I... erm... I," stammered James, he went red in the face and wheeshed steam to hide himself.

It took a while to sort everything out, James was ordered to go to the front of train, this delayed the train even more and the red engine had to make up for lost time.

He raced down the mainline, with the train now been given top priority, this left Bear's heavy goods train to wait on the middle track at Cronk. He didn't like that one bit. "Really you two?" he called, as he heard James' whistle from the distance. "I expected better from you to take a few simple vans down the line."

The red engines only blushed, as the train raced down the line. They soon reached Haultraugh, just before it got evening, a little late, but managing to get back most of the time that was lost. Much to the two engines displeasure, they found the Fat Controller on the platform. "Winston and James, explain this disruption!" he said crossly.

"I'm sorry sir," James said, "I was hurrying, so I decided to push Winston and the train instead of pulling so to save time running round him sir."

The Fat Controller was about to respond, but Winston cutted in. "It wasn't his entire fault sir," he explained, "I was hurrying to, so to prove to James I was the better... better... erm... rather embarressing to say sir but--"

"We've been having a quarrel about whose the better red engine sir," James finished sheepishly.

The Fat Controller sighed. "I expected better from you both, fighting over the same paintwork isn't what I expected from you too."

"We know sir," replied Winston, "but I think we've learned our lesson."

"I agree with him there sir," James added, "truly sorry."

"Well... thank you for owning up the pair of you," the Fat Controller said, "but don't expect to be out of the erm... flames just yet." He strode away, leaving the two red engines at the station, whilst the remaining vans were unloaded.

"Thank you for sticking up for me Winston," smiled James, "I'm sorry about all of this."

"I'm sorry I carried on the argument," admitted Winston, "we should've realised that something like this would've come out of this silly feud."

"The way the Fat Controller put it definitely made us sound ridiculous," the red engine agreed, "I know we haven't been entirely good friends... but--"

"I don't see why we can't get to talk to each other more," smiled Winston. James grinned at that.

The Fat Controller did punish them with making the two do Donald and Douglas' goods work on the mainline. But he soon forgave them and the railway went back to normal with Winston and James going back to their usual jobs, but the engines noticed the two were getting along much more better than they did.

And unfortunately, Henry and Gordon would fell victim to whenever Winston came to the sheds at Tidmouth. The two red engines would make sure to annoy the others with their constant bragging on their red coats. The engines now say they prefer the old feud now, now that just sounds ridiculous, doesn't it?


	33. Ep70: Pull Your Own Weight

As you all know there are many railways on the Island of Sodor, one that takes you across the most of the island and the biggest of the bunch, then there's the one where they take you to the hilly countryside, and then there's the one which takes you up the biggest mountain there is. But there is one that is missing. One that hasn't been mentioned in these bunch of stories that have been told to you. So I'll tell you a story about this one. But lets start with the introductions.

The Arlesdale Railway is the smallest railway on Sodor with small rails, small trucks and small engines. They run on the some of the old tracks of the Mid-Sodor Railway, they were first made to be built to take ballast from the mines that were reopened for the ballast can stop weeds from growing. But then it was proposed to have be a tourist line too. There were three diesels, the Blister twins, who mainly did odd jobs on the railway, and Frank, the maintenance diesel, but they came after the three little steam engines.

There names were Rex, Mike and Bert. Mike was the youngest of the three, you can also call him the rudest, he was nice at times, but can be put in a grumpy mood and never liked pulling passengers. Then there's Rex, he was kind and polite, but has a massive sense of humour. And lastly, there's Bert, he was the oldest of the three, quiet and does his work without fuss. He can be greatly annoyed though, with the other two bickering and teasing each other.

But there had been a problem with Bert one time ago, when he first came to the island, he was a poor steamer and it wasn't until 1973 it was fixed with Bert given an overhaul. This changed his appearance with a taller chimney and cab, but it improved his performance greatly. Rex and Mike found it hard to get use to his new shape, but eventually got use to it.

But soon enough, with Bert being overhauled made the engines be more... lazy. With Bert now being stronger than ever, Rex and Mike had started to not take as much trains, with either sitting around in the yards, dozing, or leaving some wagons behind for Bert to collect later. Bert didn't mind at first, but it was soon getting out of hand.

He decided to confront the pair after the busy day of work, they had on Bonfire night. "What was the meaning of that?" he said sharply.

Rex opened a sleepy eye. "What?" he asked.

"I was told to take the passenger train tonight! And yet when I got to the top station I was ordered to go to take your goods train from the nearby mines!"

"Oh please," Rex said, "it wasn't my fault, I was there, you weren't passengers came, you didn't."

"Why would you want to take passengers anyways?" asked Mike, "they're horrid creatures and don't get me started on the coaches!"

Rex and Bert rolled their eyes. "Then don't get started," said Rex, a sly smirk growing across his face, "otherwise you might just blow your whistle off again!"

"You—" Mike seethed.

"Stow it!" whistled Bert, "I don't have the energy for this, but... I'd like to ask you both this."

Mike and Rex's attention went to Bert. "What's the question?" the small green engine quizzed.

"If I was off for the entire day, would you be able to cope without me?" Bert asked.

Mike and Rex paused, the silence came for a few seconds, then passed with the other two engines bursting out with laughter. Bert frowned crossly as his two friends tried to contain themselves.

"Oh please Bert!" said Mike, "we've coped with you and your steaming problems! We can jolly well cope without you anyways!"

"Not with your recent attitude to your work effort," retorted Bert, "I've been having to cope with your slack, with trucks being left behind! Some rolling stock bit being moved to the right places! Even you two not steaming up properly like you use to in the mornings!"

"Letting you feel what are lives were like," Mike said.

"Well, I've seen your point now," Bert said angrily, "now I bet you two can't even work a proper day without falling to pieces!"

Mike and Rex were quick to defend each other. "Oh really?" said Mike crossly.

"I'm better suited than you," Rex added.

"Oh really? said Bert, "my driver has said that you almost knock your driver off you at high speeds!"

"Oh please," said Rex, "it's--"

"Tell you what," cut in Mike, completely ignoring the argument the others were having, "we'll get up extra early tomorrow, and do some of your jobs, how's that?"

Bert pondered, then smiled. "Alright," he agreed, "I'll be interested in seeing that, if Rex agrees to it of course."

Both engines looked to the engine between them, the small green engine groaned. "Sure," he said.

The next morning, they told their drivers and Rex and Mike got up early, with Bert staying in later in. "I could do with a good rest," he sighed, quite content.

Mike sniffed and puffed off to collect his own train. "Lazy, me? Pah! I'll show that oblivious blue oaf, just he wait!"

But his confidence turned into anger as he soon found out with Bert staying in the sheds for a bit longer than usual, Mike was to take his train which was the first passenger service of the day. Now, any engine who has met Mike knows that he hates passengers with great distain. He found them rude and sensitive to the minimalist problem.

"I regret everything I've said," muttered Mike crossly, as he backed down onto the coaches where Blister I had shunted them.

Meanwhile, Rex was to pull ballast trains for the day, taking empties to the mines and full ones back to the yards so Blister I could put them on top of the shoot, where the ballast was to be transfer to the North Western trucks lined underneath it. Rex thought it would be easy, only a few extra empty trucks were added since Bert was to help with taking some extra trucks there, but again, since he was staying in the sheds for a while Rex had agreed to take his trucks.

"It can't be that bad," Rex smirked, as he shunted the extra ballast wagons in front of his previously arranged train.

A few minutes later, Mike puffed past Rex, rather grumpily with his passenger train in tow. "Have a good day Mike!" Rex teased to small red engine who muttered something in his breath that only he could hear.

Through out the entire day, Rex took most of Bert's trucks, rushing up and down their little line, whilst Mike did some of Bert's other jobs, even when he was meant to have a lunch break he took Bert's extra passenger trains and even took extra trucks on the market day trains for tomorrow. Both were beginning to get exhausted, they hadn't had this much work in ages, Bert on the other buffer, felt cheerful, he felt much better with an extra time of napping and easy going with his trains. He didn't annoy the other two though, after all, he still had a bet to win and didn't want to provoke them into getting more motivation. He was right for using that tactic, with Rex and Mike getting worn out, they were also getting quite tired too.

Soon, evening was coming and trains were finishing up. Rex was taking his final ballast train back to the yards, a few of Bert's trucks were on it and had made it extremely heavy to Rex. "Not long now," puffed the little green engine, "one more train, then Bert can shut up about how exhausting his life is."

Rex was so tired though, that he was concentrating on what he was doing. You see, if going fast, Rex can become a rough rider, very bumpy and the driver could lose concentration with trying to stand straight up. Now Rex was so tired, that he was properly going at the right speed he was meant to go on, he sped up and began to bucketed along the line. His driver, started to bob up and down, swing left and right. "Woah Rex!" he cried, "concentrate would you!"

Rex blinked, but kept on going the same speed, the driver found it difficult to control his engine, but both weren't concentrating on where they were either. Before it was too late.

"Rex! Wake up!"

"Whhuurrr—? Uhhh—driver... the hill!!"

The driver looked up from the controls and before he realised it, Rex started to roll down the hill with the ballast wagons banging their buffers, and begin pushing the little green engine. "Rex! Control the train! Control the train!" the driver called frantically.

Rex's brakes screeched on, his wheels sparked as they rattled down the hill. They soon came to the bend at the bottom. "REX!" cried the driver.

The little green engine acted fast and with skill and calmness, Rex and his train rounded the bend with a little of Rex's side nearly coming off the rails. The train soon came to a halt, as Rex's driver walked out of his engine, shaking a little. Rex was in shock too and didn't say a word, he was fully awake now.

After a while, Bert was called to find where Rex was and found him, sitting on the line. "Well, well, well, what happened here?" he asked, Rex didn't respond, he was too embarrassed to say anything.

But his driver wasn't, he told Bert's driver the whole thing with insulting his engine constantly throughout his short story. Once he was finished, Rex's cheeks were bright red and Bert was howling with laughter, Rex's driver was put in Bert's cab and Bert took Rex and his train to the next station.

But as he got there, the stationmaster waved them down.

"What's up?" asked Bert's driver.

"It's Mike at the top station," the stationmaster informed, "he apparently dozed off whilst on the turntable and his tender has derailed, they want Bert to go and rescue him and his train."

"Why me?" quizzed Bert, "I'm looking after Rex here, can't Frank or the Blister twins go and save that damsel in distress?"

"Frank's driver has gone for today," explained the stationmaster, "and the Blister twins are suppose to stay at one of the mines tonight."

"We'll leave Rex here and go and help Mike," Bert's driver said, "it can't be bad, Rex can gather more steam so he can head back the rest of the way."

It was agreed and Bert shunted Rex and his train into a siding. Then, Bert rushed to help Mike. He arrived at the top station, tender first, Mike had been turned to face the same direction, but his tender sat uncomfortably on the ballast.

"Well, well, well," Bert began, "what do we have--"

"Belt it Bert!" snapped Mike.

"Temper, temper," retorted Bert cheekily.

Mike went redder than ever, but before he could say anything he was ordered to shut it by his own driver. Soon, the rescue operation went into motion, with workmen and a few passengers helping keep Mike's tender straight, Bert pulled Mike safely back onto the rails. The small red engine felt much better, and with quick inspection, his tender was deemed to be safe to move. But Mike's steam wasn't up yet, so it was arranged that Mike would be towed by Bert for most of the journey.

Mike, obviously, didn't take this lightly, but he had no choice as Bert shunted him between him and the little red engine's own train. "Cheer up Mike," Bert sniggered, "if the passengers find this run to be awful then you won't be blamed for at least that, the actual delay? Not so much."

The guard blew his whistle, and Bert quickly pulled out of the station. Bert was soon thundered down the line, he could go much faster than Rex without rocking his driver off the footplate. Soon, Mike's steam got up and both engines ran down the line until halfway, where Rex was still in the siding, he was sizzling nicely. His driver explained the situation, saying that Rex had enough steam to move, but cannot pull his train on his own. It quickly decided, that Bert and Mike would help Rex back. And so, Rex buffered up behind their train with the ballast trucks behind himself. The three quickly set off, they sped down the line, Mike and Rex, felt Bert's strength and were secretly impressed.

Soon enough, all three arrived at Arlesburgh, just in time for the passengers to get into Oliver's final run down the line that evening. The passengers thanked Bert and the crews, they said nothing to Mike and Rex, who just hid in their steam.

When they were all in the shed, the Small Controller, the man in charge of their railway, came walking up to them. "Mike and Rex," he said crossly, "I am ashamed of you both, I've recently heard that you both were being slack in your work and giving it to Bert! Lazy engines shouldn't be allowed to work if they are to run on this railway, I hope you two can improve on this new habit you've given yourselves."

Rex and Mike looked down at their buffers, embarrassed and ashamed. Then, the Small Controller turned to Bert. "I am pleased with your actions this evening Bert, saving Mike and helping not just him but Rex's train also. But I must request that you shan't put problematic situations onto your own buffers."

"Yes sir, sorry sir," Bert said, looking a little guilty, finding it now rather silly of him not thinking of going to the Small Controller in the first place.

"Let this be a learning experience for you all," the Small Controller declared finally, "not to be lazy, and to make more... sensible decisions instead."

He then said goodnight, and headed home for dinner. The three small engines looked at each other.

"Sorry I put you in those situations," Bert sighed, "the Small Controller was right, I wasn't thinking rationally."

"You're sorry?" Rex quizzed, "Bert, we should be apologising! If it weren't for me and Mike slacking in our work, you wouldn't of challenged us."

Mike humbled an agreement. "You were quite impressive on our final run this evening," he added, "you really make us look like weaklings!"

Bert gave out a hearty chuckle, the three small engines were now friends again.

Mike and Rex soon put a stop to their laziness and went back to doing their work properly, much to Bert's relief, and all three engines vow never to make each other be overworked for laziness ever again.


	34. Ep71: Rescue

**A/N: This is actually gonna be adapted by myself into an audio story! I don't know when, but recording has started upon it and I'm really looking forward to showing it to you all! Hope you enjoy this story, one of the long ones I'm afraid! XD**

For this period of time, the North Western was doing well for being one of the regions of the British Network. No branch lines were at risk for closing and had even gain a branch line with the Little Western in the 60s. And now, the Midland region wanted to leave the Norramby branch line, with goods traffic going either up and down unpredictably and finding it now unsustainable to have a massive diesel locomotive look after goods trains that would vary so much.

In the end, the midland region decided to give the goods to the North Western region, which the Fat Controller gladly accepted. This meant that the horrid Norramby diesel who ran the goods on the line left the island for good, much to Gordon, James, Henry and even Winston's joy.

But their joy wouldn't last long. Since the diesel had left and goods had to be attended to on the branch line, the Fat Controller had sent Donald and Douglas there to take it in turns in pulling these goods trains. But the Fat Controller knew this wouldn't last very long with both Christmas and Winter coming up, the Caledonian twins would be needed elsewhere.

This meant that another engine was needed now and the stout gentleman made the announcement one cold morning in November. The engines were intrigued by this and James and Donald discussed this at the small yard at Vicarstown later that day.

"I tell you Donald," said James, rather darkly, "that if the Fat Controller brings another one of those blasted diesels in, I might as well to go to a heritage railway."

"Aye, I would be with yae there Jeames," Donald admitted, "but we've seen more steam coming here than diesels as of late."

"I know that!" snapped James crossly, "but we all know what happen at the end of the 50s, steam engines puffing along peacefully than those oily, dirty diesels came out of the gate of hell."

Donald gazed at James, rather cautious. "Are yae alright Jeames?" he asked.

"Yes," replied James, "why?"

"Yae seem a bit... I don't know... tense?"

James was about to reply, when suddenly, Winston puffed into the yards with a small goods train from his own branch line. "Alright there lads," he called, "what are you two banging on about?"

"Whose gonna run the goods traffic on the Norramby line," Donald replied, "steam or diesel."

"A diesel."

James and Donald blinked, surprised Winston blurted it out so quickly. They both looked at each other, then back again. "Why so confident?" James asked.

"Well," scoffed Winston, "haven't you done the geography? This line is still being run by DMUs by the Midland region! So, to cut cost of fuel, the Fat Controller will obviously buy another diesel so to not to pay to reinstall water tower and coal bunks at each station."

"But dinnae the Midlond regian pay for the coosts of fuel though?" asked Donald, "so would nae that be pointless?"

"Well, since the cost of maintenance on the branch line will be shared by both us and the Midland region, I see that this new contract that's being planned will allow us to share fuel stations for the DMUs and the new diesel," explained Winston, who seemed pleased with his answer.

Donald and James did admit though, that the midland engine had a point and seemed to be the most logical.

"Let's hope it's nae anoother rude diesel like thae last then!" said Donald, sounding annoyed by Winston's golden points.

"Yeah," agreed James, "if they are, they're find themselves be growling out of here!

Winston huffed a chuckle. "Don't let Bear hear that," he said, as he begin to puff off to the depot, "otherwise you'll be getting a twenty minute scolding by him."

"More like a rrant," Donald whispered to James, the red engine chuckled.

*

It would come to a surprise that the Fat Controller was planning to buy a new diesel engine and had thought the same reasons of why. He knew he couldn't buy another steam engine, but truth be told, he really wanted to. He had heard some still remained in the scrapyards, and there were rumours that the drug used to numb them up had all but gone out. He had plans, hopefully he can use them... eventually.

He got up from his desk, walked slowly over to some a draws and picked out a file. He opened them to see pictures of engines, whether they were working on his railway or use to be. Or they were random pictures he was given through the years of other engines in other parts of the United Kingdom. He sighed, when looking at the expressions of the engines, some seemed not to have noticed the cameras and were talking (or arguing with three pictures having engine's faces by furious, one of them was Henry who seemed to dislike something back in the second world war), or they were looking confident and determined, trying to impress the people who saw them at work. Some faces looked shocked, Gordon's faces in some of the pictures made the Fat Controller laugh, the big engine could never get use to them! But most had the engines look bright and cheerful, smiling towards the camera. The Fat Controller could help but look at every single picture to look at every detail. He eventually found himself back at his desk, looking at the pictures like a child examining the pictures of a story.

He then turned the final file to see the last picture. The Fat Controller's heart then dropped, his face saddened and began to feel depressed, as he saw a picture, of two, Great Western engines sitting next to each other, in a scrap siding. One of the engines was looking down, it had feminine features, the Fat Controller presumed it be a GWR mogul, and the engine looked like she was on the verge of tears. The other was a GWR Hall class, it had a dark, brushy beard and unlike the mogul, was staring dead at the camera, looking at it furiously. His brow furrow of anger and his mouth open, seeming to be in the middle of a screaming at the cameraman.

The Fat Controller had seen this picture before, he was given it just over a decade now by a friend, he hated it and had decided to try and take full action against the modernisation plan back in the 60s. Unfortunately, he had failed his ambitions, but luckily, he and a few others managed to make another plan, which managed to save a lot of steam engines.

He had saved many engines over the recent decades, but the Fat Controller felt like he hadn't done enough. He wanted to do more, but how could he? His son, Stephen, had kept persuading his old man to buy steam locomotives, but the railway board didn't like this one bit. They agreed on keeping the steam engines, but weren't too happy on steam engines and the out-of-date, first generation diesels like Bear and Salty that were being brought in instead of the modern, up-to-date diesels.

But still, the railway needed to be kept to efficiency, and the Fat Controller must oblige to them, otherwise he could risk having their relationships be... bumpy. He heard a knock on his office door, he quickly shut the file up. "Come in!" he called, the stationmaster opened the door, allowing another man in a dark suit to come storming in. The Fat Controller kept a straight face, but he still found it hard to not groan when seeing this man come into his office with an annoyed look, spread across his worn skin.

"Morning Mr Holbrook," the Fat Controller greeted, "care to take a seat."

Mr Holbrook shook his head, making the few grey hairs on his nearly bold hair fly around. "I do not want to stay too long," he said, "but as you may know, I am hearing to talk about the new engine that should replace the old one on the Norramby branch line."

"I was was suspecting you would say that," said the Fat Controller, trying not to roll his eyes, "well I'm happy to inform you, that I'm going to look into diesel engines that are either new to other regions or just diesel engine almost under five years of service."

Mr Holbrook blinked. "Excuse me?" he said.

There was a moments silence, the Fat Controller raised an eyebrow. "Would you like me to repeat it to you?" he asked, he was struggling to cope, it might not come to a surprise to you now, but the Fat Controller never liked Mr Holbrook, mainly because of the man had said that he was in support of the Fat Controller's campaign to help steam engines, but had actually been spotted to have given a small investment on the dieselisation, which didn't go well with many others. The Fat Controller kept him on, he was very good at financing on the railway, but still, he couldn't help but despise the man.

Mr Holbrook responded to the Fat Controller's question with a shake of his head. "No thank you," he said, "I think I get what you're saying, about time you think?"

One of Mr Holbrook's eye twitched for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Indeed," he said, "you must be fixing your head then."

The Fat Controller didn't say anything, only stared at the middle-aged man, a little coldly. "By the way," said Mr Holbrook, "where is your son, Stephen? I didn't see him at the board meeting this morning."

The Fat Controller sighed. "He went to Vicarstown to check on something some of his friends who are making this bizarre plan," he replied, "says it would be the future of Sodor."

"Your son is quite imaginative."

"Guess I've got something in common with him then."

Mr Holbrook nodded his head and walked out of the office. The Fat Controller only shook his head, as he got back up to tuck the file back into it's former place.

*

Stephen was walking quietly back to the train station, he hadn't use his car since he felt like going by train today, he had spent most of the day at Vicarstown talking to his friends about plans being made and now the sun was setting and he had to get home to his wife and children. He came round a corner to then see a phonebooth, he paused for a second, Stephen nodded and walked to the phonebooth, standing lonesome next to the station. Got in, and put money into the machine. Stephen put the digits in and then the phone pressed to his ear began to ring.

A few seconds later, the ringing stopped and was replaced by his recognisable, father's voice. "Hullo?"

"Ahh, father, it's me, Stephen," came the assured response, "I'm calling from Vicarstown."

"I see..." said the Fat Controller, "how did your little meeting go?"

"Very good actually," replied Stephen politely, "the guys and I believe we can show the proposals to the council after Christmas."

"Best to do it by February," the Fat Controller suggested, wisely, "it's a little chaotic with businesses coming back up in January."

"Of course!" smiled Stephen, "so, made a decision on who's to run the goods on the Norramby branch line?"

"Indeed I have," replied the Fat Controller, his words more stern, "and you might not like it."

Stephen's brow furrowed. "Go on."

"I've made a survey on things, and I believe it's best for me to buy a diesel from another region."

Stephen paused for a second. "One of the new diesels I presume," he said.

"...Indeed."

"Right, you do know that older engines are at risk?"

The Fat Controller sighed from the other line. "You must understand Stephen that I must keep goods tides with all members of the railway board," he explained calmly, "and who knows! A new diesel might go out of service and they would've been saved!"

"But the new diesels haven't just yet," Stephen muttered, "alright, I'll see you later, bye."

Before the Fat Controller could say anything, his son placed the phone back onto it's stand, cutting the other side. But Stephen didn't leave the phonebooth, he stood and thought. The young man then made a decision. He picked up the phone again and start to press digits into the stand.

*

Alice stood at the station, she was waiting for the DMU, who was coming from Ballohoo so she could go and get her next guaranteed-connection at Kellsthorpe Road. The Atlantic engine then noticed a familiar, young man with red hair standing on the platform on the other side of the station, seeming to wait for the DMU's train.

"Is that... Mr Stephen Hatt?" asked Alice to her driver. Her driver peaked his head out of his cab to examine the station. When he noticed the familiar man, her driver nodded.

"I do believe it is," he replied, "don't know why he's at the branch line platform though! Us staff weren't told he was leaving to the mainland."

"Excuse me! Mr Hatt!" called Alice, that got Stephen's attention, he spun around from reading a small notebook he was holding and looked to see the Atlantic engine sizzling nicely at the station.

"Ahhh, Alice!" he called back, "didn't see you come in!"

"I didn't see you until just now," Alice smiled, "may I ask, but why are you on the branch line platform?"

Stephen blinked. "I'll be going to the mainland for a while," he said, "I'm going to find something."

"Like what?"

"...I do not know," replied Stephen, "I'm hoping to find this... special once I get to London to check the archives of British Railways."

Alice paused for a second, this must be very important, if it weren't for the archives, she would not of been found and be left in a warehouse to gather dust, but the Hatt family found her. "Is it... an engine you are looking for?" she quizzed.

Stephen smirked, then only shrugged. The Atlantic engine didn't dare ask Stephen anymore, as she eventually heard a toot of a horn, and the DMU came from the distance, running over the points and into the platform.

"What happened?" she asked the DMU.

"Why do you care?" muttered the DMU, quite grumpily.

Alice scowled. "I care for my passengers and the reputation of this region," she responded, quite proudly.

"I was being sarcastic," the DMU sneered.

Stephen raised a brow. "Please D54290, keep your manners to yourself, we don't want to have to report you to the midland region like last time."

The DMU's eyes widen, then blushed, wisely subsiding. Stephen, turned back to Alice. "When my dad notices I'm gone, please tell him I'm in London, figuring something out," he said warmly.

"Oh! Erm... I think I can do that sir," replied Alice.

"That's a good engine," Stephen smiled, "I'll see you later then!" He then stepped into the DMU's carriages, and the two trains set off. One going to Tidmouth, one to Barrow, beyond Sodor. Alice couldn't help but feel like Stephen was up to something, she sighed, the Atlantic engine had not known Stephen as long as the others, she'll might just ask them once she returned to the sheds.

*

Stephen sat at the desk in his hotel room. He inspected the pieces of paper on the desk, reading them through carefully, then putting notes down about each and every fact. He was indeed, looking for another engine, he had gotten to London at midnight, took the nights rest, then went to the archives of BR that afternoon. Now, he was looking into engines who were still in the scrapyards, either steam, or diesel.

He was busy, taking notes down at one of the engines at Barry scrapyard. When he heard the telephone rang on his bedside table. He got up from his chair and picked the black device up. "Hello?" he answered.

"Stephen Hatt! What is the meaning of this!!"

The young man winced at the sound of his father's angered voice. "I know father," Stephen replied.

"I'm surprised that you decided to not only leave your job's position without telling either the board or I, but your wife too, who was in shear terror of what had happened to you!"

"I know, I know," replied Stephen, "I contacted her as soon as this morning, I didn't have enough time until the last train to call her, and besides... I didn't want to spend more money than I had that night."

"Alice told me this morning," the Fat Controller said, "that you were going to London. She couldn't find a reason, so I've decided to speak to your on the phone about this."

Stephen nodded, as he sat on the side of his bed. "I understand your frustration," he replied, "but... I'm looking for something."

"An engine I presume?"

Stephen tensed and didn't respond, that made the Fat Controller sighed heavily. "I know you love steam engines, care for them! Even the diesels you love to see still running. But you must understand, that we can't save every engine."

Stephen looked down at his knees, he thought for a long, silent moment. The sounds of London could be heard, but Stephen just ignored them and only focused on his father's words. "Stop this nonsense and just come back to Sodor," the Fat Controller added.

Stephen's brow furrow, then made a decision. "We can't save every engine," he admitted, "but we can certainly try."

He plonked the phone back onto it's stand without another coming from each line and walked back to the desk. Stephen looked down at the papers, lights giving them a yellow glow and he looked at his notes too. He sat down and went through them again, he then looked at the sheet of paper.

"A BR Standard Class 4 2-6-4T locomotive," he said quietly, "at Crewe scrapyards, might seem interesting."

He picked up a few notes and went back to the phone to make the arrangements.

*

Stephen blinked. "Are you saying that... that the engine I specifically came here to see, isn't here?" he stated.

A short, plumbed man, with greying black and old, worn clothes looked blankly at Stephen. "Sadly not," he replied simply, "I think Jerry might've got confused there as usual, can't tell what which class an A4 is called between a Black Five! Then again, we are scrap merchants, not rail enthusiasts."

Stephen shook his head, pinching the brim of his nose with two of his fingers. He then grabbed a piece of paper from his pocket. "It says here," he said, "that you had a few of these engines here after their withdrawal."

The plumb man looked carefully at the piece of paper, then chuckled lightly. "Ahh yes, I remember those engines!" he said, "last one got scrapped two weeks ago I'm afraid! Poor lad, seemed like a nice fella."

Stephen stared hard at the man, who looked back at the red-haired man with a raised brow. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"You talk like spycopath," Stephen hissed darkly.

The man groaned. "I see you're one of those fellas who are engine conspiracists," he said, "seeing engines as equals and love them too much to see them go. Then again, it'll not be dumb for me to think that in the first place if you're here anyways."

Stephen's brow furrowed, very cross. "Steam engines have emotions," he said.

"Overexaggerated emotions," replied the plumb man, "they're just trains, built to pull whatever is needed, and once we've done with them, they'll have a new purpose, giving their metals to us!"

Stephen didn't want to hear the stupid man's talk about engines. "Do you have any other engines here?" he asked.

The plumb man grinned. "What kind?" he asked.

"I'll see what 'kind' when I see every engine here," Stephen responded sharply.

The plumb man nodded. "Follow me then," he said, "I'm guessing you just want engines that are... still attached?"

"Yes... yes I do."

The two men walked around the yards of Crewe, looking at engines who were ready to be scrapped on the spot. Some were sleeping, but others stared at Stephen with wide eyes, they looked in fear as the two men walked around the yards. Stephen looked at the plumb man. "Aren't they suppose to have the Haywield Drug?" he asked.

The plumb man shrugged. "The Railway Board has offered them recently," he stated, "and since they're so rare and expensive, we usually just have to do it the old fashion way of scrapping them."

Stephen's fit clenched, his teeth gritted together as he followed the plumb man. This man had no sympathy to these engines? Why? Why does he not care? Doesn't these engines look sentient to him, or just faceless machines with some kind of black slab replacing the face.

They wondered a little more, looking at engines all around the place. But Stephen couldn't find a good enough engine that could work on the Norramby branch line. "Is there anymore engines?" he asked finally.

The plumb man paused, he looked back at the red-haired man. Then shook his head. "Naaaah," he said, "I believe they're the last ones... any suited ya?"

"Unfortunately no," Stephen replied, "shame."

"Yes it is," the plumb man said, "was hoping to get a quick buck off ya, but ahh well."

He was just about to set off again, when Stephen turned to look another direction to inspect one of the far corners of the yards. And then, he saw him.

An engine, in a lonesome siding, not like the others engines who were crowded together, just him, frames of an 0-4-0 tank engine -- looked to be a Kitson Pug to Stephen -- and rusty, broken trucks gathered behind him to fill the remainder of the siding. The engine's eyes blinked open, and then looked over to see the skinny, red-haired man looking on at him. And what surprised Stephen most of all, was that unlike any of the other engines who were emotionless or scared. The engine smiled. It was a small, shy smile, but it was enough to make Stephen's jaw drop a little.

Suddenly, the plumb man came jogging back up to Stephen, he looked up at him, then at the engine. He tensed up, as Stephen looked down with a fierce look. "I thought you said we saw all of the engines," he said darkly.

"Well... erm... um..." said the man, cheeks going bright red and his stature seemed to sink as he felt Stephen's power and position destroy what he had in the yards.

Stephen huffed and began to walk up to the engine, the engine's smile faltered a little, but kept it on as the two walked up to him. Stephen furthered examined the rusty old engine, it seemed to be an London, Midland and Scottish Railway Ivatt class, the tank engine version of that with BR black that could be barely seen with the rust covering him.

"My, my," Stephen whispered, he then turned and walked up to see the engine properly. "Hello there," he said kindly, "my name is Stephen Topham Hatt, what is yours?"

The plumb man seemed to immediately tense up and start breathing heavily after that, now realising the true identity of the visiting person -- not that Stephen cared --, but the engine didn't falter at that, either not caring or not knowing who Stephen actually was! But did seem to struggle with responding. He stuttered, and barely made his voice be heard when the plumb man regained himself and stormed back up to Stephen, seeing that he regain himself from the surprising revelations and turn arounds.

"This engine doesn't have a name!" he fumed, "he's an engine, with just a number! That is all!"

Stephen scowled angrily at the plumb man. "And you're just a foolish man, who cannot understand steam engines," he retorted, "I'll ask you this again, why did you skip this engine?"

The plumb man blinked, surprised by the taller gentleman's sudden words. He then scowled and glanced at the engine. "When all the Haywield drug got out of him, this engine began to become it's original self again, then he began to to talk to my employees," he said, "unfortunately, this made the employees grow attached to the engines and began to stop scrapping, some were even weak enough to start drinking over their so-called regret on scrapping some of them! Many left to find other work, lost some good men... and friends..."

Stephen shook his head. "You must understand that your sympathetic story isn't as tragic as the engines here who were betrayed by their creators and send to their deaths!" he said, "you'll get no sympathy from me."

The plumb man scowled, his face went purple and growled viciously like an angry dog. "What do you want?" he asked.

Stephen looked at the engine and smiled back at him. "Leave me with this engine," he replied, "I want to talk to it personally."

"I cannot allow that."

"Oh? So I become so called weak like your ex-employees?" Stephen replied, "I will not allow you to deny me something that is just a mutual conversation. Leave me here with him, I'll go and find you once I'm done."

The plumb man stared, looked at the engine, then back at Stephen. His stubby legs then began to move as he grumbled back to his office.

The engine watched him go smaller and smaller and then look back at the red-haired man that mysteriously stood up to him. Stephen sighed. "I'm so sorry you've had to put up with horrid man for so many years," he said sadly, as he spun around to look back up to the engine, "now that we have no... distractions, as I asked before, what's your name?"

The engine grinned, he seemed more comfortable with Stephen alone and not with the plumb man lurking near him. He opened his mouth, about to speak then, stopped and then sighed.

"...I-I...I..." he stammered, "I don't think... m-my name means anything to me anymore..."

"Rubbish," Stephen scoffed, "every engine deserves a name if they truly want one."

"It's not that s-sir," replied the engine, "I do want a name, but the one I h-had just... just isn't..."

Stephen sighed. "I don't understand your reasons, but if you want to keep it secret, that is fine," he said, "and if you still want a name, we can just rename you!"

The engine looked down at Stephen, seeming to be rather perplexed. "Re--renamed?" he repeated.

"Indeed," Stephen said, a little enthusiastically, "if you are alright with that of course."

"Well... I... yes sir, I'm completely fine with that," the engine smiled back.

It took them a while, but Stephen and the engine soon came across a name which seem to fit just fine. Stephen felt honoured to name the engine Arthur.

Arthur with much persuading and comforting from Stephen, eventually start telling the young man all about his backstory and where he use to work. Explain all his time in the yards here and even asked Stephen some questions with much reassurance that it was okay.

But one question flew into Arthur's funnel which he couldn't stop wondering about until he flung the words out of his mouth. "Why are you here sir?"

Stephen paused. "I'm here to find an engine," he replied.

Arthur's eyes widen. "Are you looking for an engine to preserve sir?" he asked.

"Well... it's sort of yes, but more likely no," replied Stephen. Arthur raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Have you ever heard of the Island of Sodor?" asked Stephen, a little quieter.

Arthur thought for a moment. "It may have been mentioned to me a couple of times," he replied, "but it doesn't seem to ring a bell about a heritage railway!"

"I don't believe it does," Stephen chuckled, "because there isn't any heritage railway for standard gauge steam locomotives."

Arthur blinked, more confused than before, but he let Stephen carry on. "There is a railway there, which travels across the island, it takes you to the mountains, to the mines and quarries, to the seaside and harbours and to the residential areas where people can watch the trains go by. Goods and passengers are all there, ready to be in line for an engine to take them to a new place and the ones who do are the power-breathing, beastly steam locomotives and growling, wise diesels who make railways really look like they're alive. They're the engines of the North Western."

Arthur was stunned by the speech, he hadn't expected that. "I've heard of that railway," he gulped, "so many engines have said to me over the years that they want to go there, be free from BR's terror, I don't think many of them did..."

"Indeed," sighed Stephen, "but... you can be one of them."

Arthur looked at Stephen's eyes, wide in surprise. "What do you mean sir?"

"My father, who runs the region is currently looking for an engine to look after goods traffic on one of his branch lines," Stephen explained, "he feels pressured by the railway board of the region and wants to buy a new diesel, fresh from the works, so he can get on their good side."

"B-But why me?" asked Arthur in astonishment.

Stephen, smiled and patted the big tank engine's rusty front. "Because you felt... different when I saw you," he said, "and I believe you can be great."

Arthur grinned once more, he felt like crying, but not of sadness, but of joy.

*

Stephen demanded for the papers of Arthur, which the plumb man begrudgingly accepted. The red-haired man examined the papers carefully, trying not to miss any signs of what Arthur had done and if he was telling the truth. Thankfully, he was, Arthur had been quite truthful and Stephen felt that he could be a perfect addition to the fleet. Then he looked at the accidents and behaviour statures, he had a few delays noted on him, but seemed to not be his fault. Then Stephen blinked, he looked at the words again, then again. He could hardly believe what he saw.

Stephen gave back the papers to the plumb man. "If that engine is even touched by you and your men," he said sternly, "be sure that you'll be unemployed by next week." The plumb man blinked, astounded, but said nothing as Stephen left for a phone.

*

The Fat Controller was writing in his office, he was still searching for new diesels, but was finding it difficult, he grumbled dreadfully, Stephen had put him a bit of a muddle. The remainder of the board had stated they weren't too happy about Stephen's rebellious nature in this debate on what engine should take over and he needed to make sure to get on their good side.

Then, the telephone rang, the Fat Controller groaned a little, but picked it up nonetheless. "Hullo?" he said.

"Hello father."

The Fat Controller sighed. "Still on your adventure I see," he said crossly.

"I do not know whether I should take that as an insult, or a compliment," Stephen replied, musingly.

The Fat Controller scowled at this remark, he wasn't taking kindly to Stephen's amused tone of voice. "You sound very relaxed," he noted, "found something have you?"

"Indeed I have," Stephen said, "and you won't turn down this one, I am sure of this."

The Fat Controller said nothing for a few moments, Stephen was keen to saying that, but he might as well here him out. "Go on then," he nodded -- though Stephen couldn't see the gesture.

And Stephen explained all about Arthur, his class, where he use to work, what his character seemed to be like with the conversation he had with him that morning, and how he gained a new name from him. The Fat Controller nodded along. "Is that all?" he said, once he thought his son was done.

"No," Stephen said, "this is the best part, you see, when looking at his notes, I saw that he has been given a Spotless Record."

The Fat Controller blinked, surprised by this revelation. He sat up from his chair and brow furrowed. Stephen huffed out a little chuckle. "Thought I get your interest by that," he said.

"What's the condition of Arthur?" asked the Fat Controller.

"He's very rusty with a few parts missing," replied Stephen, from inspection I did earlier, he should be in working condition by almost the middle of next year."

"If we buy him of course."

"I think we will," said Stephen, "how are you doing in buying diesels."

"I'm trying to find some, but it seems the other regions are wanting them and the workshops are busy supplying them only to them unfortunately," the Fat Controller sighed, he then paused, then looked at his notes, then thought of Arthur, then Stephen. He knew his time as controller could be ending soon, Stephen had been taking more of an active duty on the railway and was becoming grand at his job with evaluating the situation and what was the best for the railway. He had gotten Alice, who was a perfect choice for hour of need and he was a little cautious on Spamcan when he returned and almost caused a serious accident. And now, he had found an engine, a perfect one, ready to be saved from the cutter's torch.

"You refuse to let Duck go back to London when he was stationed at Tidmouth temporaily for the risk of steam engines being scrapped," Stephen said, "you made both Donald and Douglas stay because you know it was right and even brought and saved engines from near scrap, whether it was diesel or steam. You've got that chance to do it again."

The silence continued again after Stephen had stopped, the young man thought that it would be impossible to get his father's side now. But his father did respond, quite enthusiastic. "Make sure Arthur doesn't get damaged," he said firmly, "and calculate an agreement in buying him, I'll have to make an urgent meeting about the changes of the plan to the our board, not all will be pleased unfortunately."

"Well... I hope Holbrook gets angry about it," Stephen chuckled, "I'll go make the arrangements."

The phone clicked and the connection was disconnected, the Fat Controller plonked the phone down. His son had won this fight so it would seem, but it was for a good intention at least. That, the Fat Controller could accept.

*

It took a while, but after much persistence from each Hatt, the Fat Controller managed to get most -- Mr Holbrook was still in decline in the change of the type of locomotive -- and a steam engine was agreed to run the goods traffic. And Stephen managed to get the plumb man to make their new engine an affordable price. When Arthur heard he was to be rescued, he was frilled! He had not been so happy in years. Whilst the plumb man didn't like that Arthur wasn't going to be scrapped, he was pleased to see the engine would not be making a hassle. But every wise being knows all too well that if somethings goes, more can come back.

"You'll be moved to a loading stage, where you'll be transported by road to our works at Crovan's Gate tomorrow morning," Stephen explained to Arthur, when the evening began to set, "there, you'll be restored as quickly as possible. You'll be the works first time restoring a fully standard gauge locomotive, but do not fret, they are the best we have to offer within this country."

Arthur, who was beginning to tear up, just smiled gratefully at the red-haired man he become so fond of. "Thank you sir," he whispered.

The plumb man, who was standing nearby, grumbled. "We don't have all day." He and Stephen walked off, as scrappers came to finally finish off the frames of the Kitson pug, so to let a diesel shunter come and take Arthur."

Once that was sorted, a diesel shunter did come and buffer up gently to Arthur, some parts were removed by Stephen's request like the remainders of his coupling rods and a few temporary things like coupling hooks so to move him into place. The diesel shunter was coupled and it began to pull Arthur, it was a struggle at first, the big tank engine hadn't moved in ages and his joints were quite stiff. But eventually, the old, rusty parts finally gave way to let Arthur move smoothly.

Most of his moving parts ached, but Arthur didn't care. He was just looking forward to becoming a North Western engine and showing he can be a useful engine once more.


	35. Ep72: Edward and the Snowman

Christmas had arrived and the engines were feeling the brunt of the workload. The quarries and mines had been closed, but not the other industries with trying to sell their products to people wanting to get gives for loved ones before Christmas day arrived. Edward's branch line was at its usual.

The China Clay pits had closed for the month and products from the ships only arrived to replace the ships who would come for the China clay. Needless to say, Donald and Douglas weren't needed on the line and BoCo would occasionally leave to help the mainline. This left Edward and Jinty (when he wasn't needed as a banker) to run the line together.

Both engines enjoyed, with Jinty taking push-pull trains, whilst Edward would take the goods. One evening, Jinty arrived back at the sheds quite puzzled.

"Hullo," called Edward cheerfully, "what's up with you?"

"There's something strange happening in the orchard," said Jinty, "they were collecting snow and making snowmen, but out of all of them, their was this one snowman who looked very... unsnowy."

"Unsnowy?" chortled Edward, "what do you mean by that?"

"It looked like an enflatable snowman," Jinty explained, "I don't like it."

"It isn't causing much harm," said Edward, "I'm sure it's just for fun! For the festival in two days time."

Jinty huffed and went crossly to sleep, Edward just chuckled.

The next morning, Edward woke to find that the wind was now blowing fiercely, bare trees branches were swashing around the place and the air was chillier. "Best take care," advised the driver, "don't want a branch to fall on us!"

Edward hummed in agreement, later that day, the blue engine came to a stop at a signal next to the orchard. Trevor the Traction Engine was busy cutting up logs to be used as bonfire for the Vicar's annual Christmas festival, a week before Christmas day.

"Hullo Edward!" he called politely.

"Hullo Trevor," whistled Edward to his friend, he then noticed something big and white near Trevor. "Is that your inflatable snowman then?"

Trevor looked over to see a snowman, being hung on a piece of rope, twice the size of the little traction engine. "Ahhh, yes!" he replied joyfully, "the vicar wanted it so to give more of a festive and more jollier feel to the festival. Looks like something from those cartoons!"

Edward chuckled, then a gush of wind came through, it tugged at the ropes of the snowman, making it jolting back a bit. "Make sure you secure it properly," advised the blue engine, concerned, "who knows what the winds plan today."

"Indeed," said Trevor, "I'll warn the men to keep an eye on it."

The signal then dropped and Edward puffed away, whistling goodbye to his good friend.

He soon arrived at the docks, where Salty and the China clay twins were busily shunting trucks around the area. "Arrrr, morning Eddie!" the dockside diesel called, as he shunted some vans into place, "how's ya trip been?"

"Very well, thank you," Edward replied, "not eventful, but pleasant all the same. Got any trucks for me to take back."

"Got some, but they aren't ready matey," Salty replied, "ya might have to come back later!"

"That's fine," smiled Edward, "if I hurry back, I could take Jinty's passenger service at Wellsworth."

"Best hurry mate then!" Salty said, as Edward quickly moved off to the turntable.

Once Edward had turned, he puffed quickly back to his station -- obliging to the speed limit of course.

Meanwhile, at the orchard, the winds were getting stronger, Trevor was worried, the ropes were beginning to look unstable for the snowman and it was beginning to float up into the air. Trevor then heard Edward's whistle and that's when it happened. The wind gave a mighty force against the snowman, and the pegs broke lose.

Edward was just puffing past, concentrating on getting to Wellsworth on time. He didn't notice the snowman being set free and floating straight towards him. Then, one of the giant hole that were made for the pegs, caught behind Edward's buffer, the snowman than started to follow Edward, unbeknownst to either he and his crew. Men waved, Trevor blew his whistle, but the blue engine didn't stop. He kept going, with the inflatable snowman tailing behind.

Unfortunately, Edward and even his crew didn't notice the snowman until passing a group of children pointing and waving at them. "Goodness! Gracious!" cried the driver, stumbling a bit as he saw the snowman.

"Is everything alright back back there?" Edward called.

"Well..." said the fireman, "we do seem to have some admirers, but this one admirers you most!" He then explained to Edward about the snowman, the blue engine was surprised.

"Should we stop?" he asked, "it could be dangerous!"

"The station isn't too far now," replied the driver, "we should be safe if we take precaution."

Jinty the Shunting Engine, was resting at the station, heating the coaches up for his passenger, when he saw the moving snowman come into the distance. "What the--" he exclaimed, but stop and then laughed as Edward came to view, tugging the inflatable snowman along.

"Well, well, well!" Jinty cried, as Edward came to a careful stop, "never thought something like that would be your passenger! I bet it had a pleasant run?"

"I think it did," Edward replied, "don't know how it got onto me though..."

His driver and fireman checked. "Seemed one of the rope's hole got onto one of your buffers," said the fireman, "probably flew itself over to you once it got lose!"

"The wind was quite strong when we went past the orchard," the driver added, "thank goodness it has quieten down."

So, with quick and precise monument, Edward and Jinty's crew quickly moved the snowman and a few workmen got some pegs to hold it into place. Edward offered to take Jinty's passenger run, which the shunting engine accepted. So quickly, the blue engine turned around, his water gauges were checked, coupled up to the train and headed off back down the branch line.

He managed to have a smooth run and tooted gayly to the workmen at the vicarage orchard and waved and cheered in return. Edward soon returned to the yards properly that evening. He backed up next to Jinty, who's crew had gone home already and waited patiently for his old friend to arrive back safely.

"Had any eventful trips?" the shunting engine teased.

Edward chuckled. "No," he replied, "but I see that the snowman has gone."

"Yes it did," Jinty smiled, "Trevor came in frantically a few minutes after you left to see whether the snowman was safe and was frilled to see it in one piece. He in fact, got inspired by you with how to take it back, the attached the ropes to him and he pulled it along whilst the snowman just bobbed behind him!"

Edward grinned. "Glad to see that it was taken back safely," he said, "but I intend to not have this sort of thing occur on my branch line again!"

Jinty smirked. "And why's that hmmm?"

"Well, if it's all to me," Edward said, "I wouldn't like to have a flatterable snowman, following me whilst staring creepily down at me whilst I do my work for the rest of the day!"


	36. Ep73: The Collack Express

One evening, all the engines were coming to the sheds after the Christmas party at the station. It was as wonderful as it was always, but Percy looked sad.

"What's up Perc?" called Jinty, concerned for his old friend.

"It should've snowed today, and yesterday!" peeped the small engine, "but I haven't seen a snowflake in sight!"

"Ahhh well," Bear hummed, "maybe next year we'll have a white Christmas."

"But it should've been a white Christmas this year!" Percy moaned, "we've had so many engines come to Sodor this year and they should have the best first Christmas on Sodor!"

"Arrrrgh, that's kind of ya matey," said Salty, sitting between a chuckling BoCo and Henry; who was obviously sniffing down at the dockside diesel.

James grinned. "It has been quite an eventful year," he said, "but I remember when it snowed at Christmas when Donald and Douglas came here and it was horrible!"

"Aye," chuckled Donald, "wouldn't want to experience that again!"

"Well... Henry wouldn't," teased Douglas.

"That's right!" said Thomas, his face perking up from remembering that year, "I remember when he got stuck with that passenger train the day when it snowed heavily!"

"Then he got trapped again two days later!" Duck finished.

All the engines laughed, Henry went red. "This is just cruelty," he muttered.

"Don't forget about Alice's first time at Christmas," said Daisy smoothly, "that made things quite eventful!"

All the engines turned to look at Alice, who was sat next to Gordon and started to look like she was trying to go invisible. "I've never heard of this story actually," Jinty noted.

"Didn't hear the full story myself either," Oliver admitted.

Alice blushed and smiled sheepishly. "It's not one of my best moments I have to admit."

"Well we've all experienced something embarrassing before," Derek said warmly to the Atlantic engine, "like my breakdowns."

"Gordon deciding to take a dip into a ditch," Thomas teased.

"Or you diving into that mine," Gordon replied with a smirk on his face.

"Ha! He got you there!" Percy cried.

"Oh please Percy," Thomas scoffed, not fazed by the small engine's remark, "your the worse out of us, remember when you ran away and ran into a bank of earth?"

"And then you took a drive into the sea," sneered Henry.

"And then going for a joyride on top of some trucks!" called Daisy.

"Well erm... you--I... Toby did... well..."

"Toby is just immune to accidents Percy!" James laughed.

Percy sulked as everyone chuckled, Toby just smiled approvingly.

"What were talking about?" came a reply.

Edward chuckled and looked back to Alice. "It's okay my dear," he said soothingly, "unlike most stories, you were trying to do something good."

Alice smiled. "I'm guessing I'm the storyteller now," she said.

The engines all listened, Gordon gave an encouraging smile to the engine sitting next to him and Alice the Atlantic Engine began her tale of her first Christmas.

*

**Two Years Later - 1973**

It seemed to be a white Christmas with snow falling across the landscape of Sodor. The engines found this a nuisance, with the adding workload, they felt worked off their wheels. Alice on the other buffer didn't feel this way at all.

She was working harder than ever and was keen to be on good terms with her new colleagues. The Atlantic engine loved the snow too and felt it more wonderful than ever. "It's so beautiful here," she told Edward at his station, "nothing quite like here."

"Indeed," the blue engine smiled back, "but do make sure to be careful, Gordon's Hill is very difficult when this weather comes."

"Don't worry Edward," Alice chortled happily, "I'll be fine, besides, how can snow ruin this Christmas?"

Edward chuckled, as Alice headed towards the hill itself. She struggled a bit, but managed to get over the top and roll smoothly down it and the trip remained uneventful for the rest of the journey. The Atlantic engine reached Barrow and went to get a drink at the North Western's depot. While she was resting, Alice spotted in the sidings a long range of coaches. They had a golden tops covering the windows, and the bottom parts were rich rid, with white buffers gleaming in the cold sunlight. Alice had never seen these coaches before and was intrigued.

The Atlantic engine then heard steady beats and looked over to see Henry the Green Engine pull up beside her. "Afternoon Alice," he greeted.

"Hullo Henry," Alice replied, "pardon me saying so, but do you know what those coaches are? I haven't seen them before!"

Henry glanced to where Alice was looking at. "Ahh! The Fat Controller did refurbish them! They looked just as new as they day I first saw them!"

"Excuse me?"

Henry chuckled. "Ahh, yes, this is your first Christmas with us!" he said, "these coaches, use to be apart of our fleet, they were the newest, modernist range of coaches we've had before the older, wooden ones like Thomas' coaches, well... they're pretty much metal versions of them anyways. Unfortunately, most of our stock were forced to retire once the Mark I's arrived, as you know, some are still in service on some branch lines and stopping services but most of them are used at heritage railways, or put up at museums across the country. These ones, are always brought back for us, and have just been refurbished this year for one of the best runs of the year in our region!"

Alice raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" she asked.

*

"The Collack Express is to run again at Christmas Eve!" declared the Fat Controller, quite enthusiastically.

The others muttered to each other. Alice raised a brow. "Collack," she quizzed.

"It means Christmas in Sudric," explained Gordon, trying to sound wise, "this express is where--"

"I've explained the entire train to her Gordon," cut in Henry.

"Then why doesn't she know what Collack means?" Gordon asked.

"Because Henry said it was the special, special Christmas train," Alice said.

"Yeah, of course he did," James teased, "we had to baby it down for him when it first came!"

Henry snorted indignantly as the others laughed. "Silence!" bellowed the Fat Controller, "I know you all are wondering who'll pull the train this year."

The engines all muttered in agreement, as the Fat Controller paused impressively. "I have decided to choose Alice to pull it," he said, "her work effort has improved the railway overall and it is without her, you'd all be worn off your wheels!"

Alice blinked, surprised by the Fat Controller's declaration. "Me sir?"

"Yes Alice, you," the Fat Controller smiled, "you more than deserve it. That is all I have to say tonight, have a good night you all and please don't argue over this. I don't want to deal with resident complaints this Christmas."

He left, leaving the engines to mutter to each other as the doors were finally being shut. "Well..." Bear said, "good show Alice."

"Yes indeed," said Henry, "for whatever reason you've got it."

"Oh, and you think you'd would've got it?" Gordon replied, with a raised eyebrow.

"Would have gotten a better chance than you that's for sure," Henry snorted.

"Did Gordon take it last year then?" asked Alice.

"Bless you no!" the green engine laughed, "he hasn't gotten to pull it for over a decade!"

Alice paused, she looked at Gordon who seem to blush at it. "Why?" she quizzed.

"I had my turn with the train back in the 1962," the big engine explained, "but then I began to head to the mainland more often to be a representation of Sudrian engines in big cities like London or Birmingham. Then... I had to deal with helping remaining steam engines get to Thesang and all of that in 1966 and I just wanted a break from all the attention I gained for the next few years."

"The public were at him for ages!" James huffed, sounding a little jealous, "I didn't see all of the attention though."

"The media had its reasons," Bear stated, "now, I think its best we go to sleep now."

Soon, one by one, the engines began to drift off. But Alice looked at Gordon again. "Would you like to pull the Collack Express again?"

Gordon huffed a small chuckle. "It would be nice to again, I do admit," he said, and fell asleep, leaving Alice to think alone.

The day soon arrived, and Alice was getting ready, she had been polished and the other engines watched her, some adored, some grumbled in jealousy. Alice then noticed Gordon move to collect his express at the station where Bear had offered to shunt him for the today.

She obviously wanted to give the train to Gordon, but didn't know how, Alice had to try something out, but she didn't know how.

Later that afternoon, she puffed back into the yard after pulling a branch line connection train. Alice was to be inspected by some railway staff before the special express was to be pulled tonight. She would go light engine to Barrow, where she would begin her long way back to Tidmouth. She was waiting patiently, when the yard foreman came up to her crew.

"Do you know when the train will be back?" he asked.

"I think it's Gordon," replied Alice's driver, "why?"

"James has been delayed at Cronk with his passenger service," the yard foreman informed, "he's got to take a fast goods to Barrow but I'm afraid he'd be too late to give it to the diesel who must collect it exactly when it gets there! Otherwise, a major domino effect of delays will be caused on the midland region."

"Why can't I just take it?" Alice suggested innocently, "I'm going there light engine anyways!"

"You've never taken goods trains from what I've been told," said the yard foreman, "and if you take the train there then you'd have to take the passenger train back so to collect passengers who want to go to the party tonight."

"Well... why can't Gordon take the express then?" said Alice, "I don't think he has anything to pull once he returns, and I'm sure one trip with trucks won't hurt with it being so urgent!"

The foreman, driver, fireman and even a cleaner argued with her over the fact that she wasn't fit to take a goods train yet, but Alice kept persisting and in the end, they all admitted that she had a point and was wasting precious time.

So Alice was quickly prepped and fuelled up, and told what to do by the foreman. "Take care," the foreman said, "trucks are unpredictable and you must understand that snow makes things a lot worse."

"I understand," Alice replied, "I'll make sure to be careful."

Alice knew that all information was needed, she knew what snow was like, but only heard what trucks were like. She needed experience from trucks. Every common engine knows that if you were to know how to handle trucks, you must double-head with another, more wise engine to give you the ropes, a somewhat teacher. Unfortunately, Alice was to take trucks alone, which was very uncommon.

When the trucks saw her backing down to them in the yards, they were incredibly surprised. "What's this?" cried a truck.

"That new passenger engine," replied another.

"Get sarcasm you drip!"

"Careful lads," one other truck said, "we must be causious of this newcomer."

"She's gonna bump us like the others!" cried a salt van.

But Alice slowly backed down and only gave a gentle tap to the front truck, who was quite shocked.

"WooooOOOOOOoooow," he said, "never had that before to a new pal on their first try of taking us out."

"Please shush back there," Alice replied sweetly, "I know this might be odd, but this is Christmas and I must give a good one to Gordon."

"OOOOOOOhhhhhh," said a truck, "that's Gordon's lady pal."

"Let's see whether she treats us like Gordon," replied an elder truck, "if not, Gordon's Hill is always waiting for us."

The other giggled, but still remained observant, knowing it would be unfair. Trucks do not like to be mistreated, they will pay an engine out if they are rude to them. But they know if an engine is trying their best and not being careless first time they will give them a chance.

"Alright!" whistled the guard, "clear to go!"

The driver heard the whistle and slowly moved Alice's regulator open, she slowly moved out of the siding with the trucks moving behind her. "Come along, come along," she sung quietly.

The trucks muttered responds back quietly too as they left the yards and soon began to head past the station. Thomas the Tank Engine nearly gawked at the sight as he and the Atlantic engine went past each other. "Careful Alice!" he puffed.

"Thank you!" Alice called back and headed out to the mainline. The train ran quietly at first, then as Alice went past Knapford, there was a loud clang. "OUCH!"

Alice looked back alarmed. "What happened back there?" she called.

"Ehh nothing," replied the front truck after a few seconds, "just got bumped back there."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Alice replied, "could you tell the trucks back there that I didn't mean to and I'm sorry that I've caused a disturbance for them."

The front truck raised a brow, but past the word along the train. A few seconds went on quietly, until the second truck spoke up. "We never had an apology like that before," it stated.

"Really?" said Alice.

"Well, a few other engines have said that," stated the front truck, "like Gordon or Bear, but we have never had an apology like that from an engine that has taken us out first time before!"

"Oh, well... I'm glad that I do not act like a rude fool then," mused the Atlantic engine, the trucks smirked. "Please," Alice went on, "can I help by making this trip go more smoother for you? I know it might be a lot to ask for, but any information could be lovely!"

The trucks muttered to each other about this for at least two minutes, Alice carried on down the mainline towards Crosby, waiting patiently for their response. At last, the trucks began to speak to her, they seemed to be quite nice to her. Her crew were cautious, but said nothing as they too listened to the trucks' knowledge to see if they could help too.

They eventually rattled past Edward's station and began to climb the hill, there was no banker at the station at that time, so Alice had to go up the hill alone. The trucks seemed to be friendly, so she trusted them not to play any tricks with her. The Atlantic engine eventually began to climb the hill and felt the weight of the train behind her and the gradient getting steeper and more difficult with getting a grip. The trucks ran smoothly, not saying a word, Alice hoped they weren't planning something.

But nothing happened as she managed to climb the hill with only a few slips to the wheels. However, the other side wouldn't be so kind, she was slowly coasting the top when she heard the trucks yelp. Then as she came to spot where she would coast down the other side, she felt the truck's buffers hit her hard and the weight of the train came at the Atlantic engine with full force and Alice soon found herself to come out of control.

"Woah girl!" Alice's driver cried, as Alice speed went faster and faster, the gradient evened out and they crossed the bridge at the bottom at an incredible speed that Alice and her train shouldn't have, she raced down the line, rounding the bend.

"Stop! Please! Stop!" she cried to the trucks, "we could crash if not!"

Soon, as she past Maron station, Alice felt the coupling of the train tighten. The Atlantic engine looked back and saw the trucks actually holding back and with enough strength, managed to get Alice to a final standstill just before a level-crossing.

"Wh-what happened?" Alice asked, a few seconds after catching her breath.

"You didn't stop at the top of the hill," stated the front truck, who too, was trying to catch his breath, "you just carried on until you were over the top. We aren't like modern trucks who do a much better job than us with braking, we don't have the equipment installed in us to help brake, making you, the brake van and your crew the only reliable thing to stop the train!"

"But... how did you help me stop?"

"Simple," the second truck said, "we managed to slip our brakes on ourselves, kinda risky ain't gonna lie, huge risk of getting a hot axle box!"

Alice said nothing at first, but eventually muttered a quite thank you to the trucks who heard and appreciated the gratitude they got from the new engine. Soon, the trucks were checked and secured and Alice could carry on with her journey. The trucks managed to stay sensible and didn't make a rude remark about Alice's incident. They arrived at Barrow, right on time.

The dirty diesel looked at Alice and sniffed. "Never thought seeing a precious little passenger engine pull wagons."

"I can be used for a lot of things thank you," replied Alice defensively, "I do not need a diesel who hardly knows me on what I can and cannot pull."

The diesel gave a small sneer as Alice puffed away gracefully. The Atlantic engine was still shaken from the whole ordeal at Gordon's Hill and decided to take a small break at the depot before taking the passenger train back. A few minutes later, Gordon came backing down into the track opposite to Alice. "Alice, my dear! Thank the lord nothing terrible happened to you!" he exclaimed.

"Why?" asked the Atlantic engine, "expecting me to crash."

"Well... I--erm..." stammered Gordon, "to be honest with you, I did. Most engines who are inexperience to pulling goods have no chance of coming out of it without a wreckage."

"Technically... I had an incident when going down Gordon's Hill," Alice said, slightly awkward from that confestion.

"Yes, I've heard from Bear," the big engine replied, "he saw you go past whilst he was in Maron sidings. Quite the racket you were to him."

Alice blushed, embarrassed. "This wasn't how this day was going to go," she said.

"...How was the rest of the run?" Gordon quizzed.

"Oh... the trucks were actually quite nice," smiled Alice, "they did seem to be cautious at first, so was I! But after that little... runaway, I think we just had no tension between afterwards."

"Good, excellent," murmured Gordon, suddenly, Alice's crew came out of the NWR staff hut after having a tea break.

"Come on girl," the driver said, "a nice, quiet run with a stopping service."

"Thank goodness," sighed Alice happily, "no offence to the trucks of course but I won't like to take them any time soon."

"Of course!" laughed Gordon, "I'll see you later at the party."

"Where will I be?" smirked Alice, as she began to chuff out of the depot to the station where her coaches waited.

Gordon gave another chuckle. As she disappeared, his own driver came up to him with a raise brow. "Thought you were going to offer the express back to her?" he said.

The big engine grinned, and winked at his driver. "She pulled that train so I could pull the express, would be a wasted effort otherwise," he said, "besides, I need to refuel and she's quite the stubborn one when her decision is made!"

*

Alice came into the station platform just as the sun was setting. She came up next to Thomas, who looked at him with a raised brow. "How was your... run?" he asked knowingly.

Alice chuckled. "Has Bear told you too?"

"Trust me, Bear told James and I, and we both left James to do the rest of the work with telling the story."

Alice laughed.

"Shush back there!" called Donald.

"Here he comes!" yelled Douglas.

And it was him, Gordon proudly pulled the Collack Express into the station, the coaches shining from the fading sun and dark, blue-shaded clouds. He was immaculate. Engines like Derek and Bear watched in awe as to see Gordon pull the train for the first time, whilst others smiled knowingly. Even Henry whispered to Toby the Tram Engine. "Has the nostalgia hit you?"

Toby smiled. "Only a fool who has not seen Gordon pull a special train not feel this way as of now."

Henry looked at Toby in a funny way. "So is it a yes or no?"

"I said shut it to them back there, I dinnae say it tae yae too, ya' green cabbooge!" Donald snapped crossly.

The engines went into complete silence, as Gordon came to a gentle stop, right next to where Thomas and Alice sat. "Nice run?" asked the tank engine innocently.

"Pleasantly incredible," Gordon replied, a broad smile on him.

Thomas rolled his eyes and puffed too a few yards up the platform to talk with Edward and BoCo. Gordon and Alice were left at the end of the station, to only talk to each other.

*

"I don't know whether I should cry or cringe at the blossoming romance," Jinty said sarcastically, the other engines laughed.

Alice chuckled. "Indeed, it was me trying to give a gift to Gordon in some ways."

"Definitely sounded like that," smiled Winston the Midland Engine, "but all the same with Jinty's statement, that was a good story."

"Oh yes! Smashing performance!" Derek called.

"Not a play Derek," James said.

"And you're not splendid," teased Duck, whilst some of the others who heard giggled in silly ways.

"Well you're--"

"Oh please," cut in Edward, "let's just stop bickering for once and just enjoy ourselves! We are a family and we do bicker... constantly in fact... but just like Alice's story and many times at being at the Christmas Party, let us enjoy ourselves and not argue or insult each other!"

The engines all looked at each other, it was true, even though not every single engine on the island was there. It was clear that just a little over a half was. One engine spoke up too.

"I'd like to say also," Harvey the Crane Engine began, "that... even though I know all of you, I've never seen most of you in the same place. Winston and Oliver, Douglas and Derek, Edward and Toby even!"

"Holy moly he's right," whispered Percy to Thomas, "I've not seen those two talk to each other in ages!"

"Exactly," Toby said, taking over the speech, "let us all talk together and become closer to each other and show the whole world, that we aren't just a railway, but a family also."

The engines all muttered and agreement and soon enough, they all began to talk to each other. Telling jokes and stories until the stars come out. Unaware of what was to happen to next year, which will be the most eventful the North Western would have to date.

A/N: It's actually just turned Boxing Day for me right when I've published this. This is the final story of Season 4. This season was actually suppose to be converged with Season 5 but turned out to be a lot bigger than I've expected so I decided to split it into two separate seasons. Do expect a lot more characters and a few arcs in this season and hopefully with that new poster I've made specifically for this season, I hope it'll be just as good as this season has, which has been one of my most enjoyable.

I'm going to take a break from making Thomas content, but hopefully return back at the end of January! Hope you all are well, stay safe, and have a happy New Year!!


End file.
